Differences
by Angie Anonymous
Summary: Nayeli messed up a lot. When her mother finally gets fed up, she's shipped off to live with her older half brother, the one and only Sam Uley. But when Paul imprints, how will that affect her? Not to mention her family? Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**'Nother story that won't leave me alone. I had this chapter written since before I started Open Eyes, so I thought I'd share it with you. I'll be updating this one and MTMOL tomorrow as soon as I get up. School's starting in a week, so my updates will be more sparse, but I guess the impact of all the learning and junk will make them better. Hopefully. Anyway, enjoy! Ps; I know I'm on Team Edward...but the wolves are just too fun _not _to write about, you know?  
**

**Love,**

**Angie Anonymous**

* * *

**ONE.**

It was _raining._

I hadn't been to La Push since I was one, but I hated it. I didn't even remember what it looked like, but I didn't want to be there. But what I hated even more was my mother for dumping me off all of a sudden with my older, half brother. _He's important_, she'd say, _chief of the whole tribe! _Oh, she was so proud of her little Samuel. But was she proud of me? Not at all.

Well, I guess I didn't give her much reason to be proud of me. I was bad. No, really, _bad_. I'd been arrested more times than I can count, and gotten kicked out of nearly all the high schools in LA. I snickered. It was the teacher's fault for annoying me, I couldn't help it that I had fallen asleep in her class. She should have left me be. Obviously, though, it was the last straw for my mother. I'd explained to her that I didn't _actually _shove the ruler down the woman's throat, I had just threatened to do it. That wasn't what she wanted to hear.

So, here we were; the back of my mother's minivan stacked with two suitcases full of my clothes and other needed things, and everything else left back in LA.

Sam was my only living relative willing to take me in. I didn't have a grudge against him, though, because he hadn't promised my mother that he could change me, like the other's had. He said he'd do his best to make me comfortable, and he was glad to have his little sister come live with him. I wasn't so little anymore, at sixteen. But I was short.

Sam was a lot older than me. Let's put it this way, when I was born, he was about to turn twenty. Odd, eh? And that was sixteen years ago, so he'd have to be, what, thirty-six? At least. And he was due to be married. My mother wouldn't shut up about that. She was just so excited that Sam was finally going to marry Emily Young, the girl he'd been with for all of those sixteen years I'd never seen him. Another strange thing; I never met my brother face-to-face. Not once, not ever. Of course he called on my birthdays and regularly to see how I was doing, and how mom was doing. I liked him, I guess, he had a nice sounding _voice_, anyway.

I glared at the windshield, catching my reflection in the contrast between it and the sky, dark with rain clouds. I stared at my pale green eyes, my tan skin. My small nose and my full lips, kind of making me look like a mouse that got botox. My waist length, light brown hair was voluminous, due to the layers my mother had forced me to get. It fell pin-straight against my back and shoulders. I guess I wasn't all that bad looking, in the end, but I wasn't beautiful. Rather plain, actually, with a slender athletic build. The scowl I was wearing wasn't attractive, and my mother chose this moment to comment on this.

"Nayeli, come on," she plead with me for the millionth time, "it's not going to be that bad. We've already got you enrolled in high school. And Emily's niece is your age! She just turned sixteen." She took her brown eyes off of the road for a fleeting moment to glance at my face. "You'd better wipe that frown off your face right now, young lady."

My jaw came together with an audible _snap_, as I spat my mother's least favorite retort in her face.

"Make me."

Mom stomped hard on the brakes, causing me to fly forward, toward the dashboard. I flung both of my hands out in front of me, catching myself before my face got acquainted with the radio. Luckily, we were at a red light, or the rest of the cars on the road would have thought her completely insane.

"Nayeli Abigail Uley," she thundered, and I closed my mouth again. I knew I'd upset her when she used my full name. I averted my light eyes from her dark ones, pulling my knees up to my chest and crossing my arms over them. I glared down at my old, beat up Converse.

My mother was beautiful. Everyone knew it. But she had a commitment problem, as I liked to call it. Not that I really knew or anything, but she divorced my father the previous year, and that was another reason why we weren't on the best of terms.

I inherited most of my looks from her. She was also short and athletic, with pitch black hair that fell just past her shoulders in a mass of curls. We had the same sharp cheek bones and rounded face; she was one hundred percent Quileute, Native American. Which made me fifty percent. I definitely wasn't going to fit in here.

Mom began driving again, slower this time, as we passed the "Welcome to La Push" sign. It was old and made of wood, depicting the stark, white words over a painted picture of the forest. I groaned, pulling my iPod of my black hoodie pocket and turning it on. I put the buds in my ears and turned "Jamie All Over" up as loud as it could go, attempting to drown out the sounds of the other cars outside the windows. Rain pelted angrily against them, and I noticed my mother flick the wipers on to a greater speed. Amazing. Washington was known for the very little sunlight, and the cold conditions year round. Definitely different than the constantly warm, sunny LA that I'd grown to love so much. It just wasn't _fair_.

During my self-pity, Mom turned the car sharply onto a dirt drive, following it slightly into the forest. I stared around me, utterly confused, as we drove a few feet into a dense forest.

"What the hell?" I mumbled, pulling my headphones out of my ears and turning off my iPod. My mother glared at me for my choice of words; mom was a freak about swearing, while I cussed like a sailor.

Suddenly, the tiny house came into view. It looked more like a bungalow, really, than a house. There were telltale signs that someone had spruced it up in the past few years; chipping paint, and half of the house was a dingy gray, and the rest was white.

Mom jumped out of the car like it was on fire. She slid open the doors on her side, pulling my luggage out onto the small porch. I grabbed my other suitcase, pulling my hood up over my head to hide my hair from the drizzle. I glanced around; nothing but trees and the house. Awesome.

"Sam!" Mom called, opening the tiny screen door like she came there every day. There was the shuffling of feet from upstairs, and then the creak of the stairs. Someone heavy was descending upon us.

Suddenly, it seemed like the light from the kitchen had been blocked by an eclipse. A large, russet skinned man was hugging Mom with all his mite, a huge, stupid smile splayed across his features. When he straightened up, dropping my mother from his embrace, large didn't seem to quite cover his sheer mass. _Enormous _might work better. And then, he whipped around and bared down upon me.

"Nayeli!" the man cried, throwing his arms around me. His searing hot arms. I nearly yelped in pain. My feet left the floor as I patted the man's back awkwardly, knocking the air out of me.

"S-Sam?" I managed to huff as he plopped me back down on the ground. His smile grew wider. "You look exactly as I imagined," he cooed, taking my face in both of his gigantic hands. One of them could grasp my whole head and twist it off like a doll's. But Sam was surprisingly gentle when he handled me. Maybe because he was over a foot and a half taller than me, and could span my body three times long ways.

"You look…large," I said, crossing my arms and appraising him. His gray t-shirt strained heavily across his well developed chest, and his arms were the width of my head. He was at least six foot eight. Sam's booming laughter filled the room. "You should see the rest of the p-" he stopped speaking suddenly, disguising it as a coughing fit, shifting his eyes around the room. "'Scuse me. You should see the rest of the guys."

I was well aware that he wasn't originally going to say 'guys'. But I was too interested and surprised to care. "There are more of you gigantic freaks?" I asked lightly, poking at Sam's bicep with my pointer finger. "Damn, I could break a hand on these things. How many days a week do you work out?" Sam just laughed at me again, and called, "Emily!"

More shuffling of feet. The stairs didn't creak as loudly this time as a slender, beautiful Native American woman leapt lightly into the kitchen.

She had long, straight, black hair that fell to the middle of her back. Her dark eyes were kind, and she would have been exceptional looking, except for three, pink, jagged scars that tugged down her right eye and that side of her mouth. But when she smiled, I felt my heart warm. She really was pretty.

"You must be Nayeli," she said nicely, stepping forward to offer her hand, "I'm Emily, Sam's fiancée. I'm really glad you're coming to stay with us." Her words were so sincere, I felt myself smiling back at her. "Yeah, me too," I said, and it was only half a lie. I really didn't want to leave LA, or my friends, or Dad. But, I guess if everyone was going to be kind here, I couldn't complain, right?

"Are either of you hungry?" Emily asked, bustling about the kitchen. I finally pulled my hood down and shook my hair out, smoothing it down in the places where it'd become gnarled. Sam plopped himself down on one of the old kitchen chairs. It groaned respectively as his weight settled.

"No, thank you," Mom said kindly, leaning against the table and smoothing Sam's short hair from his forehead. She looked at him fondly, and then turned to glare at me for not answering.

"Huh? Oh, naw, I'm not hungry," I muttered, crossing my arms and glaring directly back in her face. She looked away, back to Sam, and I took to fingering a small hole near the pocket of my jeans. Well, this was sufficiently awkward.

"So," Sam suddenly thundered, making me jump nearly out of my skin, "sixteen, eh?" He whistled, like it was a big deal.

"Yeah," I said grouchily, looking back down to the oh so entertaining hole in my pants, "been sixteen for a good two months. You called, remember?" I saw him grin wryly out of the corner of my eye. "Got quite an attitude, don't you?" he asked, folding his hands behind his head and leaning his chair back on two legs. I groaned again, and I nodded.

"You're lucky she likes you guys or she'd threaten to shove a ruler down your throat," Mom piped up, once again glaring at me with narrowed eyes. I flung my arms out to the sides. "She woke me up! I didn't sleep very well the night before, sue me for being grumpy!" I heard Sam guffaw, and Emily turned around to face me, a shocked expression on her face.

"You threatened to shove a ruler down your teacher's throat?" She asked, her own equally scarred right hand flying to her neck. I let out a dismissive chuckle. "Yeah. I'm not too good with schools." My mother snorted.

"'Not too good'?" she quoted, her hands clasped against her body hips, "you will behave this time, young lady, or it's boot camp for you! And no cell phone!" My hand flew to the LG Rumor in my hoodie pocket, and my eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare," I stated venomously, and Mom opened her mouth to reply, but the kitchen door banged open again.

Eight other ridiculously huge men (and one woman) floated through, each shirtless (well, except for the girl, of course), each dark skinned. I felt my green eyes widen as I stared at them, all plopping down around the kitchen like they lived here. _Did _they live here? My heart nearly stopped.

Sam shook each of their hands in turn, smiling at them. I pulled myself closer to the counter in an attempt to give them all more room. Was everyone in La Push freakishly large?

"Guys, this is my little sister, Nayeli," Sam came to stand by me after he'd introduced Mom, who was also beginning to say goodbye to all of them. I gave them a small smile as each brown eye turned to stare at me. "That's Embry, Jacob, Quil, Seth, Leah, Jared, Collin, and Brady." As Sam listed their names, the owner waved. The one called Jacob slapped me a high five that I had to jump to return. He laughed.

Meanwhile, Sam's eyes were scanning the faces, his eyebrows pulled together. "Where's Paul?" he asked. There was _another _one?

The one called Embry spoke up first. "He's running a little late, said he'd get here a few minutes after the rest of us." Sam only nodded.

The next half hour went by slowly. Mom had said her goodbyes, but kept getting sidetracked into conversation. I was almost free of her. _Almost_.

And now, finally, as it neared six o'clock, she stood up, brushing her shirt off. "I really should get going now. It's a long drive back to LA," she smiled pointedly at me. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. She gave Emily a quick hug and waved goodbye to the rest, who'd I grown to like more and more. We got along great; they cussed like sailors and had their minds in the gutter as well.

She stopped and gave Sam a motherly kiss, fawning over him for another few seconds. And then, she turned to face me for the final time. Mom wrapped one of her arms around me awkwardly, but I only crossed mine against my stomach tightly. She sensed my resentment and pulled back, biting her lip. "Be good," she ordered, pointing a bony finger in my face. I nodded, scowling, as she turned to leave.

I heard the minivan roar to life and peal out of the dirt drive. Once I was sure the tires had hit pavement, I let out the breath I'd been holding since she'd first touched me. Sam was watching me with an interested expression on his face as the door banged open again.

The man was huge, just like the others, and shirtless. He had slightly lighter hair than the others, but the same dark, russet skin. And, I noticed, I found him exponentially handsome.

"Hey, Paul," Sam said, offering his hand to the newcomer. Paul's head had been bowed against the rain until Sam had spoken to him, and he now looked up.

His eyes were a deep brown, his cheekbones not as prominent as the rest. His jaw was squared and clean shaven. I found myself staring.

And then his eyes found mine, and locked there.

I blinked, and turned my eyes away, folding my arms across my stomach again. I was doing my best to look nonchalant, but Paul's fierce gaze was boring straight into my skull. I nearly felt digging holes in my face. Everyone else's eyes were flicking nervously from me to Paul, and the room had become deathly still. I felt Sam stiffen beside me. "Paul," he said warningly, slowly, stepping in front of me to hide me from view. I craned my head around the side of his huge body, trying to see what was going on.

Paul had snapped his gaze away from me, and was now staring at Sam with an apologetic expression donning his features. The corners of his mouth were pulled down in a frown and his brows knit together. I saw Sam's arms fold firmly across his chest. "Walk with me, Paul," he said quietly, stepping away from me and dragging a very fearful looking Paul out of the kitchen and into the rain. The room was silent as each pair of eyes watched them go.

"Never thought it'd happen," Collin said, rubbing the back of his head. Embry nodded, his eyes wide. Jacob's mouth was hanging at the hinges, wide with shock. "Wow," Brady and Jared mumbled at the same moment.

I just glared at them all, confusion lighting my eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked, my arms tightening. No one answered, in stead, Emily placed both of her hands on my shoulders and started to guide me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "Come on, let's go get you unpacked."

I wasn't blind enough to see her glare at the people in the kitchen, a message hidden in her face; _don't say another word_.

I struggled against Emily's firm grasp. "You're going to have to tell me what's going on sometime, you know," I growled as we headed slowly up the stairs. Emily pushed me farther with her shoulder, dragging both of my heavy suitcases with not much ease. I sighed, leaned down, and grabbed them from her. "You don't have to carry these," I said, now allowing myself to be nudged up the stairs, "you're letting me stay with you, after all." I almost felt the smile grow across her face.

My room wasn't large. The cream colored carpet and white walls made it look bright, even in the dark. Emily flicked the light on.

The bed and black comforter were the only things that really belonged to me. My mother had sent the queen sized contraptions earlier in the week, so Emily and Sam wouldn't have to buy me some. The bed rested against the wall to the far left, and beside it was a small, white cabinet. There was a desk on the far right, and a white dresser and mirror. Overall, it was nice.

I set my suitcases down on the bed, unzipping the first. It was nearly filled to the brim with denim; I was a jeans fanatic. I pulled a few pairs out, sifting frantically, until my white Apple laptop came into view, along with my iPod speaker station. I sighed. They both looked to be in good health. I pulled my laptop out and set it on the desk, and plugged in the speakers. My iPod was thus put in place, and Say Anything began to fill the room.

Emily had set my other suitcase down on the bed and zipped it open, pulling out some of my shirts, when Sam called her name from the first floor. She glanced toward the door, then back to me, biting her lip. I smiled.

"Go ahead down to him," I said, waving her away kindly, "I can take it from here. Thanks." Emily beamed, and jogged quickly out of the room.

I pressed my fists to my hips, staring around at the empty walls. That would definitely have to change. _Next time I hit Port Angeles_,_ I'm buying posters_, I thought, picking up where Emily left off. I pulled out all my brand new long sleeved shirts and thermals, grimacing at them. They were definitely my style, but I didn't like the fact that I actually had to _wear _them. I was used to heat and sun, not cold and clouds. I sighed, fitting them all to the hangers, and moved to my short sleeved shirts. Those were in ample supply, so I picked two drawers and separated the plain ones from the ones with print on them.

Needless to say, I was already bored.

I got all my clothes put away in a short amount of time; nearly an hour. It was already seven-thirty, too early for sleep. With a sickening jolt, I realized that I started school tomorrow.

La Push high school couldn't possibly be frightening. I mean, with around three-hundred students -total- how could I really not fit in? Everyone knew each other.

Exactly. Everyone knew each other. And I'd be the freak from LA, living with her older brother, the Chief of the tribe, because she kept messing up and finally drove her already stressed out mother to the brink. But I tried not to think about it. Instead, I sang along to the song that was now blaring from the speakers as I rolled my socks together in mismatched pairs.

"_Please run, please run,_

_Please run away with me._

_Please come, please come,_

_Please come and stay with me._

_I don't know what to do if once more I lose you._

_It would tear me in two."_

I shimmied my hips in time with the beat, throwing another pair of socks and a pair of underwear into the drawers I'd picked out for the individual items. I was a neat freak, that was an obvious fact, and everything in my room had it's place. Dad used to say it was a mild form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

"You have an amazing voice."

The sudden voice made me scream and jump around, causing me to drop the armful of brightly-colored bras I'd just been meaning to put away.

Paul stood in the doorway, his hands in his jeans pockets. His eyes flashed to the pile of undergarments at my feet, and then back to my face. He smirked.

"Didn't mean to scare you," he muttered, rolling his eyes. I carefully controlled my facial expression, keeping it neutral instead of going straight to glare-mode. "You standing in my doorway being a _creeper _didn't scare me," I said lightly, leaning down and picking up the clothing and shoving it roughly into it's drawer, "your face is enough to frighten anyone." Though he was feet away, I could almost feel him tense.

"That's how you're going to be after I just paid you a compliment?" he growled, suddenly closer than I'd last thought he was. When I turned around, I was staring straight at the lower part of his chest. My eyes grew wide.

Paul was staring down at me, his expression a mixture of anger and amusement. There was an unfathomable emotion in his eyes. When he noticed me staring, he turned away sharply. He leaned across my bed and picked up my studded belts, hanging them gently on the hook on the front of my now closed closet door. I watched him warily. "What are you doing?"

He turned to look at me, one brow corked. "Helping you unpack."

I planted my hands on my hips and shifted my weight from my right leg to my left. "I don't need help, I'm almost done, anyway," I said, still put out and angry at the fact that I'd be starting eleventh grade at La Push high school tomorrow. As if he read my mind, Paul began to speak.

"So, school tomorrow," he mused, placing his hands on the small of his back and leaning to the right and the left. The joints of his spine cracked angrily. The muscles of his abdomen rippled beautifully. I tried not to stare, but I was doing a horrible job of it.

"What's it to you?" I spat, turning around and shoving some more jeans into the drawer. I immediately regretted what I'd said. Why was I always so mean to everyone? I turned around, my eyes downcast and my mouth poised open to speak.

"Look, I'm-" I stopped speaking. Paul was gone, the door swinging gently on it's hinges where he'd blown through it silently. "-sorry." I finished, snarling under my breath. Stupid, enormous freak.

I transferred the rest of my clothes to their respective places. When I was done, it was nearly eight-thirty. Time to shower, I guess.

I picked up one of the fluffy white towels that Emily had left on my desk, and started toward the cramped bathroom. I set the towel on the sink, pulling my toothbrush out of my pocket, where I'd placed it before leaving the room. I ran the water over it and squirted some minty-smelling toothpaste across the bristles. As I brushed, I seethed.

Stupid Paul. I was about to apologize before he got all huffy and stormed out. Well, he sure as hell wasn't getting an apology _now_. I spit, and washed my brush off, placing it in the medicine cabinet on the shelf with Emily and Sam's. I sighed again, and peeled my clothes off, turning the shower on full blast.

I was freezing. But, then again, I was always freezing. My temperature was only a chilly ninety five point two. Why? I have no idea. I got it from Dad, I think. Anyway, it always left me cold, even during the hottest months of summer. That's the reason I was always able to wear jeans in LA, even during august, and not die of heat stroke.

The shower nearly scalded my skin right off my bones. But that's how I liked it.

I lathered my body with my own body wash; vanilla scented. I loved the scent of vanilla. I had shampoo and conditioner of the same flavor, along with body spray that I used up like a leech. I managed to get my hands on four full bottles of said body spray before I was forced to move to no-man's-land. So it should last me a good few months.

As I rinsed and squirted the shampoo into my palm, my thoughts reluctantly fell back to Paul. Why had he been staring at me like that in the kitchen, like I was something he'd never seen before? Well, of course he hadn't seen me before, but I was sure he'd seen a sixteen year old girl. There had to be plenty of those around. I wondered how old he was. His sheer size made him look around twenty-five, but his face looked much younger. In fact, even Sam's face looked extremely young. He looked about twenty, especially when he smiled. Everyone else too. Was there something in the water here at La Push? The Fountain of Youth brewing somewhere in the forest? I'd have to find it.

I laughed at myself, rinsing the shampoo and conditioner out of my hair. I must be going crazy.

I shut the water off and stepped out into the chilly bathroom, wrapping the towel firmly around myself and shaking my hair into the tub like a dog. I immediately began to shiver, as was custom after a shower, so I pointedly ignored it and gathered my clothes from the floor. I darted through the short hallway and shut my door firmly, locking it. The last thing I needed was my brother barging in on me in a state of undress.

I pulled out a large, black Slayer t-shirt that belonged to my Dad. I put on my bright green bra and pulled the shirt over my head, choosing a pair of polka dotted boy shorts. I pulled those on last, and grabbed my gel-handled brush from my bed-side table. I ran it through my hair quickly, plugging in the blow-dryer as I did. This was my nightly routine: put on pajamas, blow-dry hair, fall asleep.

It was nearly ten o'clock when I finally unplugged the blow-dryer and ran the brush through my hair again. It lay smooth and straight against my back. I fluffed my layers a bit, and rolled over onto my bed, burrowing myself tightly under the covers. It was surprisingly warm under the blankets, seeing as the room and the rest of La Push was freezing cold all the time. Stupid Washington. Stupid mother for making me move here.

But most of all, stupid Paul for making it impossible to forget him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay! Chapter two. Now, I know what you're thinking...no Paul. Don't worry! There will be so much Paul in the next chapter you'll get sick of him, I promise. I just had to flesh out this chapter. Everyone wants a good first day at school, right? It's merely filler, but the next chapter will get better. Promise!**

**Love,**

**Angie Anonymous**

* * *

**TWO**.

"Nayeli! Open the door! Come on, it's time to get up!"

Sam's booming voice entered the room from the other side of the thin, wooden door that I'd obviously forgotten to unlock. He took me by surprise, and I jumped out of bed, tripping over my own feet. I caught the door handle for balance and flicked the lock back, wrenching the door open.

My brother stood, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of camo shorts. He had beaten white tennis shoes on his feet, and was jingling a pair of car keys in my face. "Come on," Sam urged, pushing me back into my room, "get dressed. Emily's got breakfast on the table. We leave in a half hour." With that, he turned quickly on his heel, and thumped down the stairs.

I glared after him for a moment, before glancing at the digital clock on my bedside table. Seven thirty. I groaned, rubbing my hand over my eyes in hopes to wake myself up more.

I stumbled toward my drawers, pulling out a pair of light colored jeans. As I buttoned and zipped them, I realized that they were ripped in both knees and in various other places. Too tired to care, I glanced out the window next to my bed.

Raining. Again. Perfect.

I cranked it open, and icy air swept angrily in my face. I gasped and shoved the window closed again. Thermal today, I guess.

I meandered to the closet, applying mascara as I did so. I pulled out a plain red thermal, slipping it over my head. I then managed to slip on all six of my silver rings, and my leather bracelet, before threading a plain black studded belt through the loops on my pants. Shoving my feet into my shoes, I grabbed my bag and my hoodie, pushing my arms through it as I thundered down the stairs.

The whole affair had taken me around ten minutes. I was the master of getting ready quickly, but if I tried, I could take the longest time.

Sam was seated at the table, a monstrous plate of pancakes nearly hiding his face from me. He was chowing down ruthlessly, shoveling as much food into his mouth as he could. Emily greeted me with a quick kiss on the forehead. "How did you sleep?" she asked conversationally, placing a cracked white plate in front of me and ladling two fluffy waffles on it. I picked up a fork and began to eat. They were delicious.

"I slept okay, but then again, I rival the dead," I sighed, taking another bite. I could see why Sam was stuffing his face. Emily was an excellent cook.

Sam smiled at me from across the table, before he downed a whole glass of orange juice in one gulp. "We'd better get going, you don't want to be late," he said, seeming as excited as a five year old on Christmas. He obviously took after mom. I stood, touching both of my pockets, as I did every morning. Ipod in place, no cell phone to be found. "Oh!" I gasped, whirling around and leaping up the stairs. I gently pulled the white phone from the charger, making sure the ring was on vibrate, before shoving it into my empty hoodie pocket. Then I darted to the bathroom, and brushed my teeth quickly. I'd have to get up a bit earlier to put an end to all this rushing nonsense.

I vaulted -actually leaped, my feet not touching the wood- down the stairs, tucking my hair into the back of my hoodie and pulling my hood over the rest of it. "Okay, now I'm ready."

Emily's expression was amused as she pressed another kiss to my forehead. "Have fun at school," she said, before sweeping back to the stove to make more food. I hitched my bag up onto my shoulder, following Sam out the door.

Sam was already in the enormous Jeep Wrangler when I finally arrived at the passenger side door. The step to help midgets like me into the monstrosity came to my waist. I judged the distance from the ground to the seat, bending my knees resolutely. Taking a deep breath, I propelled myself from the ground to the beat up leather. My body landed long ways, my head facing Sam, and my legs dangling out the door. I quickly righted myself, tugging my bag against my side and placing my feet down on the floor. Flustered, I fixed my hair and then looked at Sam expectantly. "Let's get this show on the road."

He laughed once -a loud, barking sound- and inserted the keys into the ignition. The Jeep came to life with a roar to rival a tiger's angry squall, and Sam sped out of the slew of trees in a matter of seconds.

"Claire'll be waiting to show you around," Sam said, in an obvious attempt at idle chatter. I toyed with the strap of my bag. "How fun," I murmured sarcastically. I could feel Sam glance at me.

"Is there a reason for the 'tude?"

I turned my gaze to my older brother's entertained expression. "Well," I began, then dropped the sentence. Was there really a reason for it now? Mom was gone, and Sam hadn't done anything to provoke me, really. "I don't think there is, actually," I clarified slowly, toying with a tear in my hoodie sleeve, "sorry, Sam." His laughter filled the Jeep as he pulled into the school's parking lot, pressing his foot to the brakes. "It's okay. Here comes Claire. Have a good day at school, Nayeli, I'll be here afterward to pick you up." Sam wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him in an awkward 'brother/sister' moment hug, before I managed to open the door and slide out into the freezing morning.

A dark skinned girl nearly slammed into me full force. She had slightly darker skin than me, almost the same russet color as Sam's. She waved at him through the window, before he pealed away again, and disappeared onto the street.

"You must be Nayeli," she said fondly, offering me her hand. I looked up at her face for a moment -yes, up, because she was at least five-six to my five-two- and then gave her a reciprocating smile. I took her hand and shook it gently. "Yeah, you must be Claire?" It came out as more of a question, and Claire gave an answering nod.

Her bangs were cut clear across just below her eyebrows, the rest of her long, black hair pulled back by a plain, white headband. She had on a long sleeved white shirt, and a pair of black skinny jeans. White ballet flats donned her feet. Okay, so she wasn't nearly close to my style, but she seemed nice.

Claire hitched her bag further up on her shoulder, linking her arm with mine. "Everyone has been waiting for you to arrive," she said, her voice harboring just the right amount of cheeriness for me to be able to stand her, "Quil and the guys haven't shut up about it. Sam was so excited." She began to laugh, and I with her.

"Sam, excited?" I asked as she led me to the office to retrieve my schedule and locker number. Once I had the two separate sheets of paper clamped firmly in my hands, Claire led me out, into the bustling hallways. Everyone's eyes immediately trained on me; the new girl.

"Here's your locker," she suddenly announced, pulling us to a stop, My Converse squeaked wetly on the floor in reply. I began to fumble with the numbers as Claire jabbered on. Usually, I'd have zoned out by now, but oddly enough, I listened to every word my new friend said.

"Yeah, Sam was so excited, and Aunt Emily was happy to see him not so stoic about something. I mean, have you noticed that expression he always has on his face? Like nothing phases him." Claire was gesturing widely with her hands as she spoke, almost pummeling a few different students as she did so. I looked up from shoving my hoodie in my locker, expertly transferring my phone and iPod into one of the pockets of my bag. "No, I actually haven't noticed that," I mused, allowing Claire to snatch my schedule from me, "he's actually been smiling a lot since I got here last night"

Claire glanced up at me, her eyebrows knit together. "Hmm, well he must be happier than I thought. Oh look, we've got first, fifth, lunch, and eighth period together! Well that's good at least. Do you think you can find your way around? I could ask if I could escort you…."

She trailed off, looking up at me for confirmation. After a few minutes of convincing her that I wasn't an idiot and I could navigate the tiny high school properly, she grinned and tugged me away toward our first period; math. My worst subject. The very subject the teacher I'd threatened taught. Joy.

As we entered the bland, white room, each pair of eyes turned to me. Again. This was going to get annoying.

I felt the heat boil in my cheeks as I took the seat Mrs. Winthrop -an elderly looking woman with too much bright red lipstick- had pointed out to me; across the room from Claire, amidst a sea of dark-haired students I didn't know. Lovely.

Claire shot me an apologetic look as she took her own seat, watching intently as I sat down in mine. I mouthed her a quick, I'm fine, before a clearly male voice began to speak to me from my left.

"New girl?"

I turned quickly in my seat, my hair whipping around my face. His condescending tone had struck up another bout of anger. "Who wants to know?"

A smirk appeared on the dark skinned lad's face. "I'm Evan Hanson," he said, his eyes alight with curiosity. He had an air about him that screamed 'I-think-I'm-superior-to-you'. Oh, he'd just be a ball.

"Well, that's fantastic," I said icily, turning around in my seat again. Suddenly, Evan's hand gripped my forearm, forcing me to turn and face him again. His grip was tight as that stupid, ugly smirk appeared again. "Not so fast," he muttered, his voice low and husky. I inwardly groaned, my eyes flickering toward Claire, who was watching the exchange with her jaw hanging open.

I swept my eyes across Evan's face for the first time. His jaw wasn't as defined as Paul's, nor were his eyes the same coffee brown. His black hair was short, giving off the 'elegantly disheveled' look, carefully gelled into place. I immediately wanted to punch him, and slap myself for comparing him to Paul. Could my brain not leave him alone, not for one minute?

"_What?_" I hissed in a low voice, as Mrs. Winthrop began to prattle about last night's homework, which, of course, I wouldn't have. Evan's grip was becoming painful on my arm, so I wrenched it away quickly, almost punching the girl seated in front of me in the back of the head. Evan chuckled.

"Just wanted to get to know you, is that a crime?" His eyebrows raised suggestively. I nearly wretched.

"Bitch, you don't know crime," I grumbled, more to myself than to the over-confident twat beside me. Evan gave a knowing laugh. "Oh, c'mon," he whispered, leaning closer to me, his eyebrows still raised, "don't deny it. 'Easy' completely rolls off you in waves."

I stiffened suddenly, turning slowly, and completely, in my chair to face him. Did he just seriously say that to me? Did I really look easy, or was that just a jab at me because I wasn't immediately crushing on him? Must be a jab; I was the farthest thing from 'easy'.

Slowly and deliberately, I stood from my chair, straightening my thermal as I did. Evan gave me a confused look, then a hopeful spark flew across his eyes, like he was hoping I was going to jump his nasty bones right there. I smirked, before raising my fist, and swinging it through the air as hard as I could.

It connected painfully -for the both of us- with his nose.

Several surprised gasps rang out through the room, including a screech of "Nayeli!" from Claire, and Evan's roar of pain. Blood began to drip on his desk from both of his nostrils. I glared down at my already bruising knuckles, grimacing. Finally, Mrs. Winthrop noticed our little escapade.

"What is going on here?!" she gasped, her pudgy hand flying to her face. She rushed over to our congregation as quickly as her short legs allowed. "Oh my - why…what…to the office, Miss Uley!"

I rolled my eyes, picking up my bag, muttering how Evan was the biggest baby in history. I glanced over at Claire, who was staring at me with a look of respective appreciation and horror. "See you in fifth, Claire," I called merrily through the door as I skipped quickly down the halls and stairs.

The equally pudgy, Native American woman who manned the office, was waiting for me. She smirked as I entered (was that a habit of everyone in La Push? I mean really) and pointed me silently through another door, marked "Principal Reeder".

Reeder was dark skinned, just like everyone else, with a shock of black hair. He was surprisingly young, in his early forties, I guessed, with thick, black rimmed glasses. He had on a tan suit and a blue tie, and was watching me intently from over his spectacles.

"Good morning, Miss Uley," he said in a gruff voice as I closed the door behind me. Reeder motioned to the hard, wooden chair in front of his desk. I quickly planted myself in it. "Sup?" I asked, crossing my leg under my other and sitting on it. Reeder chose to disregard my question and get straight to the point.

"You punch a young" -he glanced down at a post-it note on his desk- "Mr. Hanson in the nose, not ten minutes ago, am I correct?"

"News travels past in these parts, aye?" I joked, leaning one elbow on the back of the chair. Principal Reeder did not look amused.

"May I inquire as to why?" he asked in that same, airy, gruff voice as before. I pulled all my hair over one shoulder, and began to sift through it, looking for split ends, nonchalantly. "He was annoying me."

"And because he was annoying you, you thought it prudent to punch him in the face?"

"Kind of."

Reeder sighed, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and other fingers. "We're not going to suspend you, Miss Uley," he said, heaving another resigned sigh.

Well, that was good.

"But we are going to have to telephone your brother immediately and inform him of your first slip-up."

I immediately froze, dropping my hair and leaning forward to grip the desk. "That won't be necessary, really, Principal Reeder," I said in a deliberately sweet voice, "I wouldn't want to trouble you. I'll just tell Sam when I get home, no big deal."

He didn't buy my ploy for a second. This Reeder was a smart cookie. Perhaps too smart.

"Not that I don't find you trustworthy, Nayeli," he said, grinning, "but I'd feel better if I got to speak to your brother." I groaned. Well, I was screwed. Boot camp it was.

Reeder picked up the black phone on his desk, sifting through a drawer. He pulled out the information card I guessed my mother had sent in to the school when I was enrolled. He dialed the numbers quickly, pausing. I heard the phone ring even from my place in the chair. A deep voice answered on the other line. The voice of my brother.

"Chief Uley?" Principal Reeder asked, his voice suddenly slightly submissive. I bit back a snort. Chief Uley? I heard Sam's reply from the other end; suspicious. Great. Oh, I was so murdered when I got home today.

"This is Principal Reeder, from La Push High. We have Nayeli here in the office…no, she's fine. No, sir, not sick. She, er," Reeder paused, glancing at me. I chewed the inside of my cheek. "She punched another student in the face today."

Sam's voice suddenly disappeared. I could almost feel the sigh he heaved. He began to speak again.

"Of course, sir," Reeder said quickly, then took the phone from his ear and held it out to me. _Shit_. Shit, shit. I was a goner.

I took the phone from Reeder's fingers, pressing it gingerly to my ear. "Hey, Sam, what's crackin'?"

"_Nayeli Abigail Uley, what the hell is wrong with you?!_"

He was doing his best not to shout, I could tell that much. He must be trying not to crack his aging kitchen phone in his enormous hand, as well.

"Well he was annoying me!" I cried back at him, planting both of my feet firmly on the floor. "That doesn't mean you have to punch him!" Sam yelled back. I heaved a sigh.

"We'll talk about this when you get home, young lady," Sam snarled, and promptly hung up on me.

"Sweet," I groused, shoving the phone back to Reeder and crossing my arms sourly. The Principal didn't look the least bit apologetic. A shrill bell rang.

"You should get to your second period, Nayeli," he said, picking up his glasses off of the desk and replacing them on the edge of his nose. It took all my self control not to push the infernal things farther up, where they belonged. "Have a nice day!" he called cheerfully as I darted out of his office and into the hallway.

Once again, everyone stared. Yeah, this was definitely old.

Second, third and fourth period went by without a hitch. Several people congratulated me on punching Evan, the rest glared at me venomously. Evan was obviously well-liked, though I couldn't see why.

As I entered fifth period, I was ambushed by a wild mane of silky, black hair.

"Claire!" I huffed as she grabbed my arm and tugged me into the library, where our study-hall was to take place. She sat us down at a small, empty table, watching me with interested eyes. "So, how bad was it? Did you get suspended?" she blurted, throwing both of our bags on the table top. I shook my head.

"Naw, I didn't get suspended," I said, glancing down at my nails, "but they called Sam and told him. He's really pissed at me." Claire groaned sympathetically.

"Sam won't be too hard on you, I don't think," she said, pulling out a notebook and beginning to start on the math homework I'd obviously missed. I pulled out my own and began to work alongside her; Claire helping me when I needed it, which was often. We shared a comfortable silence most of the time, when she wasn't launching into random stories about the guys and Quil.

"You seem really infatuated with that Quil," I said kindly, as we both closed our notebooks and replaced them in our bags. Claire leaned her head on her open palm dreamily. "Yeah, he's great," she sighed, a glazed look overtaking her eyes. I corked an eyebrow. "Are you guys, like, dating?" I asked, spinning my thumb ring around repeatedly. Claire nodded.

"But isn't he, like…old?" I asked in surprise, then I quickly shut my gaping mouth. "I mean…not that I have a problem with it, or anything," I quickly backtracked, and Claire smiled. "Yeah, he's-" she stopped speaking, biting her lip, glancing around awkwardly, "-yeah." Claire finished lamely, still gnawing at her lip. "You are a strange girl, Claire," I joked, shoving her playfully as the same shrill bell tolled, signaling lunch. Claire grabbed my arm and yanked me up from my seat, barely giving me leeway to snatch my bag before she jogged us both excitedly toward the cafeteria.

Much to my disappointment, a hush didn't fall over the crowd as Claire and I entered the room. Not that I wanted everyone to be talking about me -that was exactly the last thing that I wanted- I just wondered if everyone would know about it by now. Of course, I already knew they did.

Claire pulled me into line, picking us both sickly-green trays. I glanced at the lunch being served; chicken patty. It looked more like rubber. Claire quickly filled her plate with one, though, but I refused the disgusting school lunch offered to me. Instead, I picked up a small bag of chips and a Pepsi, paid, and followed Claire to the table she'd selected.

"Where's your lunch?" She asked as we sat, "that can't be all you're eating." I shrugged. "It's all I ever eat for lunch at school. I'm a vegetarian." I took a bite of a chip, as if to prove my point. Claire raised her eyebrows for a moment, before nodding. "Well that's cool. Sorry for eating this chicken in front of you."

I just laughed and motioned her on. "Go ahead, I'm not like an activist or anything, I just never liked the taste of meat much." Claire gave a small grin and took a hearty bite of her sandwich.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. After lunch, Claire walked me to my sixth period art class. It was cluttered and bright inside the room. The teacher seemed very…eccentric, to say the least. She was middle aged, with a few wrinkles donning her face, and striking red hair. Her purple scarf and pink Capri pants clashed horribly with it. I sat alone for a matter of moments, reveling in the silence, before the two empty stools were taken up by a blonde girl and another dark skinned one. They introduced themselves as Melanie and Annie, friend's of Claire's. The two seemed nice enough, and we got along fine.

History and Gym went by slowly. History was one of my favorite classes, and the only class where the teacher made me stand in front and introduce myself. Also, the only other class I shared with Evan Hanson.

The boy glared evilly at me the whole time, to which I threw him an extremely cheery grin before skipping out of the room light-heartedly.

Gym, by far, was the best. The teacher, who requested that I call him 'Coach', made us run laps around the gym, which was fine with me, seeing as I loved running. Back in LA, I'd been on the track team.

As I changed from my gym uniform back into my original outfit, dread slowly trickled through my veins. In a few minutes, I'd have to face Sam. He'd eat me. I know he would. He sure as hell could manage it, how gigantic he is.

The bell rang. I. Was. _So_. Screwed.

Picking up my bag, I slid my feet into my zebra-striped Converse, and trudged slowly out of the locker-room.

Claire was waiting just inside the doors to the school, a sympathetic look on her face. "Aunt Emily is here to take us home," she said, linking my arm with hers once again and leading me out into the rain. "Are you coming to their house?" I asked, hopeful that maybe it'd save me from Sam's wrath. She shook her head, sighing apologetically. "I wish I could, but I'm supposed to go home today. My sister is sick, and I've got to take care of her, apparently." Claire shuddered, climbing into the green minivan. I gritted my teeth and hopped into the front seat. Emily gave me a small smile.

"Hi, girls," she said happily, leaning back to kiss Claire and me on our foreheads, before pulling out of the lot. "Nayeli, how was your first day? Other than punching someone, I mean." Emily glanced down at my severely bruised, swollen hand. She clucked her tongue, but said nothing about it when she saw my scowl.

"It was okay, I guess. I didn't get suspended, and after the whole punching incident I didn't cause any more trouble." Emily and Claire both laughed.

A few moments later, Emily stopped the car at one of the small houses on the main road. "Tell Kara I said feel better, Claire!" Emily called as her niece gathered her things and jumped out of the open door. "Will do! Oh, and Nay, I'll text you later. Bye guys!" Claire called cheerily as Emily pressed a button, and the minivan door slid shut.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, before Emily spoke.

"So, what exactly did this boy do?"

I sighed, pulling my feet up onto the seat as Emily pulled out onto the road again. I contemplated lying, but decided that I trusted Emily enough to tell her the whole truth. "He called me easy," I explained, and her eyes widened. "Well, I'd have punched him too," she grumbled, as she turned on to the now puddle-ridden dirt drive leading to the trees.

A chill ran down my spine as I leaped out of the car, pulling my bag with me. Emily and I raced to the porch, trying to stay as dry as possible.

Sam was waiting when the door opened. Emily quickly bailed to the living room.

His expression was livid. I dropped my bag near the table, pulling my hoodie off to place it on top. I let out a dull 'uhh' before Sam began to yell.

"What the hell were you thinking?! You could have gotten yourself _suspended_, _expelled_, even! Then what would have happened, huh? You need to wise up!"

I folded my arms resolutely across my chest, jutting my chin forward childishly. "Oh please, it was only my first offense! _No one_ gets expelled on their first offense, Sam, it's like, the law of the world!" I knew I wasn't helping myself with that argument, but it was true. It had always taken me at least two or three slip-ups to get kicked out of a school, and I was a pro. Sam growled. Yes, he actually growled at me.

"There is nothing funny about this, Nayeli. Do you know what people would say? I won't have you acting like this, not while you're under my roof!"

Finally, all the anger I'd been hoarding exploded in my stomach like a freshly trodden upon land mine. That, mixed with the fear, rejection, and sadness all welled over into rage-induced tears. And I never cried.

"Send me away, then!" I screamed, balling my hands into fists at my sides and suppressing a wince as my bruised hand throbbed. "Send me away like all the others did. Give up on me, Sam, go ahead! You know you want to!" My last sentence came out as kind of a mangled sob. Embarrassed, I covered my face in both of my hands, wishing he'd just walk away so I could slink up to my room, unnoticed.

But suddenly, his gigantic, warm arms wrapped tightly around my back, pulling me to him. My face was crushed to his chest in a sibling-ish way, briefly, before he placed his searing hands on my shoulders and held me at arm's length, looking down at me.

"I am never going to give up on you," he said, as if I had offended him, "you are my sister. Even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to send you away." I caught the double meaning; there was something Sam wasn't telling me.

"What the hell is going on here, anyway?" I asked suddenly, as Sam released my shoulders. He looked confused, then comprehension took over his expression, our previous discussion forgotten.

"I don't know what you mean," he mumbled, turning away and beginning to stride toward the living room. I followed, determined. "Hey! Hey, you big idiot, don't you walk away from me! Tell me what's going on! There's something everyone's hiding from me, and I want to know what it is!"

Sam suddenly stopped, and I ran smack-dab into his broad back. I let out a muffled 'oof' as I began to fall backward. Sam reached around to steady me with the strangest, torn look on his face.

"Sam, tell her. She deserves to know," Emily said quietly from her seat on the couch, motioning for me to sit beside her. I quickly obliged, folding my legs underneath me and watching Sam expectantly. He still looked torn, but finally, after a long moment, he turned to face me.

"Did Mom ever tell you the old Quileute legends?" he asked, and I nodded, silently wondering what that had to do with anything. I decided to voice my query.

"Yeah. Werewolves, vampires, all that junk. What does that have to do with anything?"

Sam watched me with a carefully serene face, the one Claire had informed me of earlier in the day.

"Nayeli, those legends are true. I'm a werewolf."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three. I'd be mad at Paul too...stupid Paul.**

**Actually, I just like to see him grovel :D**

**Oi, okay. So I haven't been updating MTMOL. Wanna know why? Well, the flash drive that I keep it on...gone. Where? I have no idea. But I WILL find it. So hold tight on that story for a while, aye? I apologize for the inconvenience...and my stupidity.**

**Love, **

**Angie Anonymous**

* * *

**THREE.**

I might have stopped breathing for a moment.

"W-what?" I managed to stammer once my brain started working again. My brother? A werewolf? What the hell kind of place was this?!

"So are Jacob, Quil, Paul, Collin, Brady, Seth, Leah, Jared, and Embry," Sam continued, looking slightly relieved. Perhaps he expected me to get up and run. Honestly, I was contemplating that.

Wait, Paul? _Paul _was a werewolf? _My _Paul?

"_Your _Paul?" Sam suddenly questioned. Shit, did I say that out loud?

"Uh…" I trailed off, deciding not to pursue the subject, "wow. That's…well, interesting."

And in that moment, I decided to accept it. I mean, who was I to judge? I believed Sam, of _course _I believed Sam. He was my brother, after all, and he was entitled to _never _lie to me. He promised that once, when I was ten, after Mom had lied about the man sneaking in and out of the house when Dad was at work. _I'll never lie to you, Nay_, he'd said, _never in a million years. _It was comforting, even now, to think about that, besides the fact that Mom was cheating on Dad (another reason why I hated her). No, Sam wasn't lying.

"You…you're not…upset?" Sam asked, collapsing into the arm chair across the living room. Emily's smile was contagious, and I began to grin.

"Nope, not at all, in fact. Is that why you guys are so hot?" Sam raised an eyebrow, and I quickly saved myself. "I mean, temperature-wise, dumbass."

The next hour was spent, Sam explaining each and every detail about the Pack. Their temperatures ranged from one-oh-five to one-oh-nine. They were all unnaturally tall and muscular. And they didn't physically age once they started phasing, and wouldn't until they got up enough resolve to stop, so that explained my whole Fountain of Youth theory. When I told Sam that, he just laughed.

"I should go call everyone and tell them you know, so they don't have to watch themselves anymore." Sam stood, striding quickly to the kitchen, and picked up the phone. He could be heard babbling excitedly to someone on the other end a few moments later.

"Emily?" I suddenly asked, toying with the old quilt that was draped atop the couch. The dark haired woman lifted her face to watch me, the good half looking confused.

"What was up with Paul last night? Why was he staring at me?" The only question I wasn't able to ask Sam, because I knew he wouldn't answer me. He hadn't been too happy with Paul last night, when they'd gone fore their little 'walk'. Emily glanced at me, her eyes troubled, and opened her mouth to speak. Sam, with his amazing ability to deny me what I really want (okay, maybe I'm being dramatic, but still) chose that moment to thump back into the room. He glanced pointedly at me, then back to Emily.

"Paul's on his way over."

I grinned excitedly, my stomach doing back flips. Okay, wait.

What the hell is going on with me? The last time I saw Paul, I insulted him. So why should I be so excited to see him now? I had been trying to apologize, but the big dolt walked away too soon. But…I wanted to see him. Every part of me wanted - no, _longed_- to see him. To have him near me, even if we didn't speak.

"Oh snap, I'm going insane," I muttered to myself, hopefully too quiet for Sam and Emily to hear. Judging from Sam's carefully disguised snort, I'd said it a bit too loud.

"I'm going to change and throw some stuff in the wash," I said, standing up and brushing my jeans off. They, along with my shirt, were still damp from the rain. I strode quickly into the kitchen, picking up my bag and hoodie, and tromped up the stairs.

Okay, so, Paul was on his way over. Awesome. Now what do I wear?

I stripped off my jeans and shirt, kicking the door closed as I did. Throwing the offending clothes into the pile near my desk, I pulled out another pair of dark jeans. Slipping them on, I pulled out a white Ozzfest t-shirt, and pulled it over my head. I glared at my hair in the mirror, willing it to calm itself down and not be frizzy. When trying to communicate with it didn't work, I reached for the brush and quickly undid the knots, and carefully combed my small fringe across my forehead, just as I heard the door swing open, and Paul's voice floated clearly through the closed door.

"So, she knows?"

Sam cleared his throat, before answering in a lower tone.

"Yeah, but not everything. Mostly everything. It's your secret to tell."

"So she doesn't know about…"

"No, not that."

And what exactly is 'that', I wanted to know? I decided it was time to make my appearance downstairs.

I made a show of running my fingers through my hair, attempting to keep it out of my face. I hummed an old Fall Out Boy song on the way, for good measure. Once in the kitchen, my eyes popped open like I was surprised.

Paul was standing, shirtless again, next to Sam, who was eyeing me suspiciously. Paul followed his gaze to see what his friend was looking at, and his eyes locked on mine again. A slow smile crept across his lips as he muttered, "Hey, meanie."

I blushed. Of course I did. I just had to embarrass myself now, in front of _Paul _of all werewolves.

"Hey, creepy," I said back, cheerfully skipping toward the refrigerator. I pulled the door open, scanning the various food items for a moment, before pulling out a carton of apple juice. I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it up a quarter of the way, sipping slowly.

Paul was still staring at me, his eyes watching my every movement. I crinkled my eyebrows, taking another swig of juice. "What?"

He seemed to catch himself then, and turned away, watching a bird on the window sill. "Nothing," he murmured, but he was still smiling.

Sam's pack-leader face (as I liked to call it) was back as he cleared his throat again, standing. "Why don't you two go for a walk?" he suggested, leaning forward and taking my juice from me. I started. "I wasn't finished with that," I said hotly as he poured the bronze-ish liquid down the drain.

"Oh look, it's gone," he teased, waving the empty cup in my face. "Go ahead, the rain stopped." I glowered at Sam fro a moment, unsure, before gliding quickly past him and out the door. Paul hadn't moved.

"You coming, Paul?" I called, holding the door open with one hand. Sam was right, the rain had stopped, but that didn't mean it was sunny. The clouds still possessively claimed the sky, as they had (and would continue to do) every day. Paul thumped out behind me, still silent.

He overtook me quickly, leading the way into a tangle of sopping trees. I grimaced, before following behind him as quickly as I could. After I few minutes, I thought it fit to complain.

"Dammit, creepy, where the hell are we going?" I cried, stopping and glaring down at my now-wet jeans. Oh, this is just fantastic.

Paul, a few feet ahead of me, turned impatiently. "Just a little farther. Come on." he turned and began to walk again, checking behind his shoulder, to find me still standing where I was. I placed my hands on my hips and raised my eyebrows.

"No way," I said, raising a finger and waving it at him, "I changed into these pants so I'd be _dry_, and now they're all wet again." Paul began to pace back toward me, stopping just inches from my body. I felt my breath catch as he slowly reached a hand up and trailed his fingertips along my jaw line, and back.

Suddenly, I felt his arm snake it's way around my waist. I yelped in surprise as my feet left the ground and I was flung rather unceremoniously over Paul's shoulder, my face level with his back. "PAUL!" I screamed, raining my fists down upon his muscles as hard as I could. My bruised hand throbbed, harder this time, and I couldn't stifle the pained moan that left my lips. Quicker than I would have thought possible, my feet were back on the ground.

Paul was looking me over, hands on my shoulders, his eyes flickering fervorently over every surface of my body. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, wild terror and guilt clouding his eyes. I shook my head.

"No, you idiot," I growled, clutching my black and blue hand to my chest. Paul finally seemed to notice, and pulled my hands away. His eyes swept over the bruises for a moment, before I felt his fingers begin to shake.

"Who did this?" he asked, his words coming out in a low growl. I let out a snort.

"Evan Hanson's face."

Another growl escaped Paul's lips, followed by more quivering. Then, suddenly, something Sam said earlier came flooding back to me.

"_When we get too upset or angry, it can trigger the change. We have to work very hard to keep calm and stop from phasing too close to people. They could get hurt._"

He had looked at Emily with so much pain and guilt in his eyes at that moment. I gasped.

Paul was shivering more violently now, his already dark eyes growing even blacker. I reached out slowly, tentatively, and placed my hand on his bare arm.

"Paul?" I began, and the quivering lessened some at the sound of my voice. I started again. "Paul, easy. Calm down. _I_ punched _him_. It was my fault. Easy." Paul's shaking stopped altogether. Maybe it was the tone; I'd used it once when my great dane, Ronald, had nearly attacked the mail man. It had calmed him down.

Oh, Ronald. I missed him. He was back at home, with Mom. She was probably ignoring him! Feed him and leave him to himself, that's her motto. He's only three, he needs attention!

"Hey, are you okay?" I heard Paul ask, pulling me out of my dejected thoughts. I looked back up at him, carefully regulating my face.

"Yeah, sorry," I managed to stammer, once again breathless under the heat of his gaze, "I was just thinking about Ronald." Paul stiffened.

"Who's _Ronald_?" he asked, disdain dripping from each letter. I raised an eyebrow. "My great dane. He's back with my Mom, in LA." I felt myself frown again and, much to my chagrin, my voice cracked.

Paul's hand traveled to my shoulder. He squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry," he said, "you must miss home a lot, huh?" I only nodded.

"So, Paul," I said, pulling my hand from his arm and then away from his other hand, gripping my shoulder, "where exactly are we going?" A smile spread across the man's face, making him look no older than sixteen. It was a beautiful smile, one that I hadn't seen before. "So you don't mind being alone with me, then?" he asked, his voice chipper and happy.

"Uh…no? Should I? Why, are you going to like, rape me or something? Cause you definitely could, with all that muscle." I was only half joking. If he wanted to, Paul really could hurt me. But did I think he would? Of course not. Sam would behead him.

Paul turned to face me, his eyes boring into mine like coals. I stared apprehensively back.

"I will never hurt you, Nayeli," he said quietly, resolve deepening his tone, "never. I promise. I'll always keep you safe."

I watched him for a moment, quietly contemplating his sanity. Most of me thought what he said was unbearably sweet, but this man was like a stranger to me. A friend of my brother's. My brother's pack-mate.

"That's…nice, Paul," I said, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. Paul watched me for a few more moments, before raising his head, smiling. "Come on, meanie," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward a fringe of trees, "we're almost there."

"Almost where?" I muttered, letting Paul drag me forward and reveling in the feel of his warm, gigantic hand against my cold, small one. Paul glanced at me, that beautiful smile still on his face. "Here," he murmured, and pushed aside several tree branches.

The cliffs led straight down into the roaring ocean. The blue waters clawed at the rocky sides, leaving behind a blanket of white foam and seaweed. The air smelled crisp and cool, and the wind picked up the spray and carried it to our faces. I saw Paul grinning and realized that I must be staring around with an awestruck look on my face. He pulled me down to sit on one of the wet rocks that led over the edge of the embankment. I didn't even care that my jeans were even more damp than they already were.

"So, what do you think?" Paul asked after a few more moments of me staring around, slack jawed like an idiot. "It's amazing," I whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment. Paul removed his hand from mine and I had to suppress a grunt of protest. What was _wrong _with me, seriously?

Paul was silent for a few moments. When I glanced at him, he looked like he was thinking something over, very hard. His brows were pulled together and his forehead was all crinkled. I almost laughed, but instead opted for, "Whatcha thinking about so hard? You're going to bust a vein."

Paul drew in a deep breath. "Sam told you about the legends and us being werewolves, right?" he asked suddenly, the words tumbling from his mouth in a rush. When I nodded, he continued.

"Did he tell you about 'imprinting'?"

I remembered this. "Yeah, he said it's what happened to him and Emily. And Jared and Kim. Quil and Claire, too." Paul was nodding slowly, grasping some sort of concept that I simply wasn't getting.

Then it hit me.

"Oh," I whispered, my mouth hanging open again, "oh."

Paul still only nodded. I brought my gaze up to him, weary and cautious. "So, I'm your imprint, then?" I asked, not really wanting to use the term 'soul mate'. It felt strange.

"Yeah, you are," Paul said, rubbing the back of his neck, an awkward habit, like I did. I grinned at the tiny similarity.

"Well," Paul said slowly, after a few minutes calm silence, "what do you think? I mean, what do you want to do?"

What did I want to do? Half of me wanted to jump his fit bones, but the other, more reasonable (and boring) half of me took over my vocal chords.

"I…I mean, I don't know," I finally said, watching Paul's face. It fell drastically, and I quickly scrambled to save myself. "No, no! I mean, I'm not saying it _won't _work out, I'm just saying…well, maybe we should take it slow. At first."

A new hope dawned across Paul's face, making him look even handsomer than before. I liked that look; it was purely happy, and it tied first place with his smile. "So…this may work, then?" he asked, nearly bouncing up and down like a five year old. I laughed, and put my hand on his arm to calm him again. This time was different.

A warm shock threaded itself up my arm and through the rest of my body. My palm tingled where it was resting on him, and by the stillness of him and the look on his face, Paul felt it too. Afraid, I quickly drew back. Paul caught my arm half way and then traded it for my hand. It felt nice, again, to have my hand in his. Maybe this could work out after all.

"But here's the thing, Paul," I said after a while, making no move to pull my hand away, "there can't be all this 'I love you' crap from you, okay? I mean, I know you do and all, but I barely know you. Just save it for a little later, okay?" I hadn't meant for my tone to sound as harsh as it did. I just didn't want him to completely devote himself to me, not now, because I really didn't know what I wanted.

I was torn. Part of me wanted to be with Paul, to tell him I wanted this whole 'imprint/love forever' thing right now. But, secretly, I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be what Paul thought I was, and when he saw me for what I truly was -sarcastic, bitchy, and all around evil- that he wouldn't want to be with me anymore.

But, I also didn't want Paul to tell me he loved me every five seconds, because I knew that's what he was thinking of doing, maybe to influence my decision. I wanted to fall in love with Paul, I really did. But, the thing was…I _wasn't_ in love with Paul. Not yet, anyway. Hell, I didn't even know if I _would _fall in love with him. He kept saying it was inevitable, that I'd love him soon enough, because he was my other half, and I, his. But did I believe that? God knows I wanted to. I was a natural skeptic, sue me.

Paul wilted a little, but nodded. "Not until later, not until you're ready to love me," he promised, and I rolled my eyes.

"Look, okay, not to be a bitch or anything," I said, pulling my hand from his, "but I don't even know if I'm _going _to love you. I don't know how I feel about this whole 'imprint' business. This is all new to me."

Paul chuckled, that smug smirk appearing again. "You'll love me," he said, shaking his head back and forth, like he pitied me, "it's in your DNA. Your nature. I'm your perfect mate." I nearly fell into hysterics at the word. "Mate?" I asked, between giggles, "what the hell is this, a zoo? I'm a human, Paul." His gaze darkened. "Well, I'm a wolf, and what you are to me is a mate. The love of my life."

"Dammit, Paul, what'd I say about that whole 'love' thing?!"

"Look, Nayeli," he cried, suddenly standing to his full height, "just get over it, alright? I love you, and I'm going to love you, for all eternity, whether you pick me or not."

I looked up at him, my eyebrows raised defiantly. I slowly stood and began to applaud, a tiny smirk pulling at the corners of my mouth. It grew wider when Paul looked utterly confused.

"Good job," I nearly sang, standing up and starting back through the trees, "you've reached a new level of weird. Way to go, creepy." And then I disappeared.

It took me nearly a half hour to find Sam and Emily's house again. By the time I reached home, it had begun to rain again, and I was currently soaked and shivering, trudging up the wooden steps.

Paul hadn't found me. I don't even think he made an attempt. When I'd looked back through the trees, he had still been standing there like an idiot, staring after me. I turned around and left after that, not really wanting to see his face.

How dare he tell me who I was going to love? That was really the only part of the whole little speech that had bothered me. I didn't mind being his imprint, I wouldn't have minded taking it slow and building up to loving him. He'd just gone and ruined it for himself, when he'd told me what I was going to do. No body tells me what I'm going to do. I actually strive off of spontaneity, thank you very much, you stupid, idiotic, forceful…wonderful, amazing, beautiful werewolf. _Stop it_, _Nayeli_,_ you're an idiot and I hate you_, my rebellious side snarled at me. I groaned out loud.

I flung the tiny screen door open, stamping wetly into the kitchen. Emily looked up from the stove and Sam jumped from his chair, striding over to me with a worried expression on his face.

"What the hell?" he said, grabbing my face and staring. "Where's Paul?"

I scoffed, yanking my face away painfully and starting for the stairs. "I don't know, I don't care. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say his name around me anymore. Thank you for your time and attention, I'm going to get a shower." I turned and trudged angrily up the stairs, pulling my shirt off as I went.

The next three days went by quickly. School progressed rapidly, and I was thrown into the middle of the year tests and homework. Ever the good student, I hastened to do my homework, yet bomb the tests that kept my grade at a low B in each. I excelled in Gym, getting by with a high A, and all I did was run.

Paul picked me up from school all of the three days, apologizing profusely, begging my forgiveness. I treated him to a nice, stony silence during the rides, which I accepted, due to rain. By the end of all three he looked hurt and close to tears, which made me laugh some. The laughter died away on Friday, when I noticed the dark, purple circles under his eyes.

"Are you sleeping at all?" I asked suddenly, worry seeping into my tone. Paul jumped, so ecstatic that I was finally talking to him that he nearly drove us off the road. "Not really, no," he answered, after he'd manage to collect himself and stay in his lane, "Sam's got me running extra patrols as punishment for making you upset."

I let out an affectionate little sigh. "Aw, Sam, I didn't know he cared so much." That earned me a deep scowl from Paul's end.

Emily wasn't at home that night to cook dinner, which left Sam and I by ourselves. She'd gone to the Clearwater's to help Sue with some sort of elementary school costumes for a school play.

Needless to say, Sam and I both fail in the kitchen.

We'd attempted to make some sort of salad -chicken in his, just normal salad for me-, but my brother, you see, is an idiot.

"What exactly am I doing wrong here?" Sam asked, staring angrily down at the skillet where the pink-ish blobs of meat were sitting, limp, in a puddle of non-stick spray. I glanced at him from where I was cutting tomatoes, heaving an exasperated sigh and laying the knife on the cutting board. I studied the scene before me for a moment, noting the absence of the crackling and spitting that would normally be gracing the kitchen. If the skillet were actually, you know, _hot_.

"You're an idiot," I said, stomping over and reaching around him to flick the burner on, "I'm a damned vegetarian and I know how to cook dead animals better than you. And they made you Chief." My rant was cut short by Sam's intermittent grumblings of his own. When I distinctly heard the words 'drama queen', I hurled a head of lettuce at his face. With a puppy-ish yelp, Sam jumped out of the way, and straight onto the incoming guests.

"Now, children," came Embry's voice, mimicking an old grandmother, "no fighting in the kitchen."

Jacob shouldered his way in after, sweeping his black eyes across the scene before him. "You both tried to cook, didn't you?" When we sheepishly nodded, Jacob pulled the strange, wooden spatula-esque implement from Sam's fingers. "You are both stupid," he said, before meddling with the now whitening pieces of meat in the skillet.

Dinner wasn't all that great, and I realized just how much I missed Emily as I watched Jacob, Embry, Sam, Collin, Brady, Seth, Leah, Quil, and Jared scarf down lettuce and chicken. My mood grew steadily worse when I realized that Paul wasn't there. When I asked where he'd gotten off to, Jacob watched me with intense curiosity.

"First you don't want him, and now you want to know why he's not over for dinner?" he asked, amusement coloring his tone. I scowled darkly at him for a moment, before sighing. The whole Pack was looking at me by now.

"What? I'm just worried…is all…what are you looking at?!" my voice rose to a screech as each and every one of their faces grew into the same, stupid, accusatory, 'I-told-you-so' grin.

"Looks like someone's got the hots for Paulie," Embry said in a sing-song voice, twirling his fork around his empty plate. I picked up a tomato slice and wailed it at his face. "I do not!"

"Do too."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not, you're it I quit!"

"Dammit!"

Embry folded his arms across his stomach and stuck his tongue out at me childishly, to which I responded with more tomato. Sam caught it in his fist before it made contact.

"Alright, it's nearly eleven," he said pointedly, eyeing me. "You need to get up to bed." My jaw dropped.

"Up to bed? What am I, three? I'm sixteen, Sam!" I watched as my brother leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing his temples furiously. "Just go to bed, okay? We've got patrols to run." When I scowled again, Sam cleared his throat.

"Up to bed, Nayeli Abigail!" Oh, the Alpha voice, now?

I sat in my chair, arms folded, eyes narrowed. Jacob let out a bark of laughter. "I think that's the first time your Alpha voice hasn't worked, Sam," he said between guffaws. Sam pouted at me, his dark eyes growing wide and his lower lip jutting out. "Please go to bed?"

I sighed, defeated. Stupid Sam and his scary-good puppy-dog-eyes. I stood, said a quick goodnight, tossed another tomato at Embry, before jogging up the stairs.

I decided on a long, drawn out shower tonight. I washed my hair and body slowly, not to mention touched up my legs with a razor. I'd been ignoring them for far too long, the stubble was staring to get annoying…

I didn't feel the need to dart back into my room this time, dressed only in my towel with my hair dripping freezing streams down my back. Sam and the others were already gone, patrolling. Emily would be home soon, though, but her seeing me like this wasn't nearly as terrifying as Sam or another member of the Pack.

Well, I wouldn't mind Paul seeing me like this…

_Stop it_,_ stop it_,_ you're an idiot_._ I hate you_,_ die_. Stupid inside-my-head-sensible-girl.

Sighing -this is, at least, the sixth time I'd been talking to myself in my own head today- I reached into my drawer and pulled out another pair of my ever-ready boy shorts and my slayer t-shirt. I slipped them on, taking the towel off of my floor and using it to suck some of the wetness from my hair.

I turned around, facing the mirror, dragging the brush through my tangled locks. That's when I heard the creaking of the window, and a heavy thud that shook the whole floor.

I whipped around, a scream building in my throat, that was quickly blocked off by a snort as I folded my arms.

"You know, you should really stick to your day job, you really blow at being a ninja, Paul."


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is shorter than the others...only because I'm illegally tired. I really wanted to get this up before I went to sleep though, and voila! I finally managed it at 2:05 in the morning. Dedicated, eh?**

**As you can probably tell, I'm trying not to hurry this story along, so it doesn't seem rushed. It'll pick up soon, I promise, but it'll take a couple more chapters for Nayeli to finally give in and tell Paul she loves him (like you didn't know it was coming, I mean really). Enjoy!**

**Love,**

**Angie Anonymous**

* * *

**FOUR.**

Paul huffed, lifting himself from my bedroom floor with his hands like he was going to do a push-up. Once he was standing, he brushed off his jeans and crossed his arms, watching me.

After a few moments, I got fed up. "What?"

His eyes were transfixed on mine, and smoldering. I immediately felt my knees grow weak, and clutched at my dresser for support. Quickly, I turned and began to rummage through my dresser drawer, searching for pants. Anything. I found a pair of red shorts and quickly tugged them over my legs.

"Vanilla?"

I whirled to face him again. Seriously, the freak could stand so silently, I'd forget he was there. How could he be so graceful and so…_big_? Must be a werewolf thing.

"Uh…what?" I asked, my eyebrows knitting together and my nose wrinkling in confusion.

"Vanilla. That's what you smell like. And…metal." Paul's face was thoughtful.

Well, this was an interesting conversation. "Ah," I began, pacing over to sit on my bed. Damned if I was going to stand for the duration of this weird-fest. "So, you sneak into my room via window, nearly break the floor…and then tell me I smell like _metal_?" Was he insane? "Did you drink your dinner, Creepy?"

At this, Paul let out a booming laugh that seemed to shake me to my core. I pulled my legs up under me, sitting Indian-style. Paul moved slowly to sit next to me, his weight creating a lull, which forced me closer. The heat radiating from him swept over my body, and, before I knew what I was doing, I had both of my arms wrapped around one of his tree trunk-like ones.

Paul didn't move. He only tensed for a moment, then each of his muscles relaxed in turn under my touch. I sighed. "God, you're freezing," he mumbled, reaching over with this available hand to rest it against my upper arm. I nodded against his shoulder, where my face was pressed.

"My temperature is like, ninety-five, ninety-six on a good day," I explained, burrowing myself closer to his warmth, "I don't know why." I added, when I saw him open his lips to ask. We stayed in that comfortable silence for a moment, before Paul suddenly ruined it.

"So, you love me yet?"

I growled and shoved him away as best I could, resulting in me nearly being vaulted straight off the bed. Paul reached over and caught me before I hit the floor. "My, aren't we graceful?" He sneered, and that stupid smirk appeared on his lips.

"My, aren't we stupid? Get off me, dork," I hissed, pushing his hands away and readjusting my shorts and shirt. Then, I glared at him. "Sam probably knows you're here," I stated, and when he looked confused, I elaborated. "Because, he can read your mind when you're in wolf form, remember? Yeah, he definitely knows you're here."

Paul's face paled, and I laughed. As if on cue, I heard the kitchen door bang open.

"PAUL!"

I pointed right in his face, my eyes dancing with mirth. "HAH! Idiot, I told you!" But Paul's face wasn't smiling. Something flashed in his eyes, and he reached up to rub angrily at his nose, as if he smelled something unpleasant. I immediately reached for him.

"Paul? What's going on?"

He ignored me, leaping up from my bed and speeding down the stairs. I followed suit, not about to be left out of this.

Sam, along with the rest of the pack, was standing in the kitchen, his eyes hard. Paul joined quickly, stopping in front of the Alpha, just like the others. Jacob was in front of the group, at Sam's right. With a final nod, my brother began to stride out of the house, without so much as acknowledging me.

"Leech, very close. Took a hiker near the mountains. Don't stop until it's taken care of. Move out."

"Sam!" I called, following them out onto the porch. I grabbed both my brother's arm and Paul's, hauling backward as best I could. They both turned to look at me, aggravated, as the rest of the pack sprinted off into the heather.

"What the hell is going on? Where's Emily?" Questions flew from my mouth as I dug my nails into their tough skin, Sam glaring at me and Paul pleading to be let go.

"She's at the Clearwater's. She'll be staying there. It's a young one, not very experienced, so it won't take that long. Stay in the house, Nayeli, I'm serious. Stay in your room, lock the front door, and your room. Stay away from the window." Sam's speech was long winded and fast, his words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall. My breathing became erratic.

"But…what do you mean 'taken care of'? You're not…going out after it, are you?" I asked, terror welling in my throat. My eyes traveled from Sam to Paul, wide and bright.

"Of course," Sam scoffed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Remember, stay here. I love you." My brother kissed my forehead, before darting out into the brush. I clasped onto Paul's arm with my now free hand, attempting to pull him back into the house. "Don't go," I plead, "don't."

So, I chose now to care? Of course, typical me. I'd just been insulting him, and now I didn't want him to go throw himself at a vampire? I was losing it, I swear I was. But, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew it, I didn't really hate Paul. I didn't really want him to leave me alone. I wanted to be with him, to love him. I wanted him to love me. But I was childish, and afraid of being abandoned. I'd never admit that to him, not to anyone.

Paul pulled me into his arms, pressing his lips briefly to my forehead, before shoving me back in the house and locking the door wordlessly.

I let out a whimper, before collecting myself, and strutting determinedly toward the living room. I pulled my shoes out from under the couch, not really caring that I looked absolutely preposterous, clad only in these tiny shorts, a gigantic t-shirt, and high top zebra striped Chuck Taylors. Knotting my hair into a messy bun at the top of my head, I crept silently out the creaky door.

The night was cold upon my already frigid skin. The stars weren't plentiful, due to cloud cover, but the half-moon gave me barely enough light to see. I trudged angrily through the forest, not really knowing where I was going, but determined to find the Pack and drag all their stupid asses right back to that house, where they were safe.

I don't know how long I wandered listlessly through the forest before I tripped. The stupid log jumped out at me, I swear.

I hit the forest floor hard on my hands and knees, wincing as my palms scraped over the tiny rocks littering the ground. As I watched, a trickle of blood seeped from one of the creases. _Shit_.

I stood as quickly as I could, eyeing the forest around me. _Oh_, _awesome_, _you are so smart_, applauded the sensible-in-my-head-girl, _you are just amazing_. I growled inwardly at her, before whipping around and flinging myself through the trees.

Get home, douse hand in bleach, pray to the Goddess or God of whatever-the-fuck-religion that the ruddy vampire didn't smell my blood. That sounded like a good plan to me. I'd obviously been thinking too hard, because I didn't even feel the granite wall hurtle into my back until I was on the ground.

The skin of the creature was ghostly white, like alabaster. His hair hung dark in his face, over perfectly angled features that made me kind of jealous. His shirtless chest was toned and smooth. His eyes were red. Blood red.

I froze. Well, I was a goner. What a way to go, eh? Die by vampire. And I wouldn't even live to tell the tale! But hadn't I always said I wanted to die in an interesting way? Get eaten by zombies or something? I guess a vampire would have to do.

Too bad my body wasn't working well with my mind, which had already greatly accepted the fact that I was going to die. No, my arms and legs were working frantically as the creature stared down at me, a playful, deadly look on his face. The face that a hungry cat wears when he finally corners that mouse he's been chasing down. He wasn't going to make this quick.

My lungs sucked in as much air as I could muster, before I let out the most gut-wrenching, blood-curdling scream I think I'd ever heard. It kind of embarrassed me that I was going to die with a scream on my lips, not a smile, like I'd originally planned.

The creature wasn't pleased. He'd obviously expected me to be stunned into terrified silence. My scream died away as he hissed and raked his finger-nail-claw-type-things across my forearm, the one I'd thrust up the shield my face. I vaguely felt him scrape the milky white bones. I didn't scream this time, I only whimpered pathetically. I really sucked at this whole 'accepting death by a mythical creature' thing.

And suddenly, as I expected the cold, razor sharp teeth of the vampire to descend upon me, a howl pierced the air. Followed by ten more long, angry, protective calls. The Pack. _My _Pack. Oh thank the Goddesses and Gods of whatever-the-fuck-religion! Screw 'ready to die'! I wanted to _live_!

The hulking black shape I knew to be Sam positioned himself cleanly over my bleeding, weak body. The candy-red liquid was seeping steadily from my arm, causing me to become dizzy and disoriented. It was all happening so fast.

A silver wolf, flecked with darker shades, launched himself deftly from the bushes, connecting with the granite-wall that was my attacker with a loud _thud_. The wolf snarled viciously, locking his jaws around the creature's neck, and twisting. A piercing sound of metal twisting away from metal filled the air, and I attempted to cover my ears. Bending my injured arm was a bad idea.

With a breathy cry of pain, I pulled my sopping arm against my stomach, attempting to wrap it in my over-sized shirt. Sam-wolf bent his equally dark nose down to the wound, sniffing at it, and then he lapped at the blood with his tongue. He gave a gruff, short kind of wolf-nod to the rest, who, in turn, began to tear at the still struggling vampire.

Sam barked a gruff order then, and the pack backed away into the trees. Several angry, ripping sounds later, the wolves human counterparts appeared, dressed in cutoff jeans -with the exception of Leah, who was clad in a pair of shorts and a big t-shirt, much like myself. Seth struck a match and dropped it upon the glittering white remains. My arm throbbed.

The Sam-wolf darted off into the trees, I assumed to phase. It was then that another dark, russet face appeared above me, worried and horrified.

"Nayeli? Nay, can you hear me?" Ah, the one voice I longed to hear.

"Paul…" I whispered feebly, making to reach up to him. He swept me quickly into his arms, making sure not to jar my injury, which was still sucking away my life-force. Paul seemed to sense this, and began to run, the Pack and Sam at his heels.

"Shh," I heard him whisper, "you're safe now. I've got you." Before it went dark.

* * *

I opened my eyes, hoping for the beige ceiling that was my bedroom.

But I was greeted by a painful -_quite _painful- bright, white light.

"Oh fuck, I seriously died?" I muttered, reaching up with my right arm to sweep the now dry hair from my face. Okay, that one worked fine, now let's try the other one.

When I attempted to lift my left arm, an involuntary shriek left my lips. I gritted my teeth together and cut it off in the middle, so it choked down to a dull moan as I clutched my arm to me, now feeling the thick, white bandages. Another moan escaped my lips as I thrashed my head about, attempting to stir the memories.

Vampire. Howling. Sam. Seth. Jacob. Embry. Quil. Leah. Collin. Brady. Jared. Paul.

"Paul?!" I screamed, flinging my upper body into a sitting position. My head swam sickeningly and my stomach turned, my arm throbbed, but I didn't care. My eyes were searching frantically, my good hand outstretched to the other end of the couch.

And, suddenly, he was there, grasping that searching hand, kneeling by me, his eyes worried. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?" He fussed, reaching down to touch my arm tentatively, with gentle fingers.

I studied him. There were no new scratches on his face or arms, and he looked healthy enough, if not scared shitless. The dark circles under his eyes seemed even more prominent.

I quickly recovered myself.

"Of course it hurts, stupid," I spat back, wincing as I pulled my arm away from him. I immediately regretted being so horrible to him, he'd just saved my life.

He'd just saved my life. He could have been killed.

I flung my good arm around his neck, drawing myself closer. "Oh god, Paul!" I cried, burying my face in his shoulder. "Are you okay? Did it hurt you? Oh god, where are the others?" Stupid questions. _Yeah_, _you might want to shut the hell up now_, _I'm still mad at you_, _moron_.

"Stupid in-my-head-girl, shut your big, fat mouth already! GOD!"

Oh, I'd said that out loud again. I really needed to work on that.

"Uh, anyway, Paul, ignore me. Is everyone else alright?" I asked brusquely, unwrapping my arm from his neck and settling with my back against the arm rest. Utterly bemused, Paul faltered for a moment, before answering.

"Yeah, everyone's fine. They left a little after we got you back in the house, to see if it had a mate somewhere or something." His tone was wary, cautious. Paul was watching me like I was a cracked china doll, placed precariously at the edge of a shelf. I glared at him. "What?" I asked, "do I really look that bad?"

Paul seemed to shake himself, bringing his eyes back into focus.

"What? No, no, it's not that. It's just…you're being so nice to me. Why are you being nice to me?" He seemed genuinely alarmed, and that made me kind of mad. What if I had been falling for him, huh? How would that have made me feel?

_Was _I falling for him?

_PSH NO_! My subconscious scoffed, much to my distaste. I must be developing some kind of inner schizophrenia or something. Hey, it could happen, right? More likely, it would definitely happen to me.

"Well, if you don't want me to be nice to you, then," I groused, folding my arms -ish- and glaring at him with angry yes, "I won't be nice to you. Now get away from me. You stink." And Paul did just that. He leaned away from the couch heavily, pushing himself up using the opposite arm rest. I was glowering deeply in my direction as he sulked into the kitchen, but I was sure that I saw the distinct flash of amusement in his deep, brown eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Please, don't maim me! I have a valid excuse for why this took so long!**

**School started again, which brought me immense joy (NOT), and we've already gotten tons of homework, and it's only the first week. AP history SUCKS, let me tell you. But we get to do Sweeney Todd for our spring Chorus concert, so that's a plus. Hmm, OH! My AP history teacher looks like he could be Indiana Jones, and he's amazing. He asked me to print out a copy of 'Differences' and 'More Than My Own Life' for him, so I did. He read them both, and loved them. So that's pretty awesome, no? **

**Well, anyway, this chapter was fun. I tried to make it longer for you guys. And to clarify; the ending does _not_, in any way, mean that Nayeli has finally admitted to Paul that she loved him. She's only admitted it to herself. It'll take a while for her to admit it to our dearest Paulie. Please enjoy!**

**Love,**

**Angie Anonymous**

* * *

Wrist to elbow.

That ruddy vampire slaughtered my arm. From wrist. To elbow.

"That son of a bitch," I muttered a week after my encounter, when Sam had finally let me remove the bandages. The wound was beginning to heal from the inside out, leaving two slits -like I said before- from wrist, to elbow.

It would have been disgusting to someone who hadn't grown up watching Saw and other gory movies. I'm a fan of gore, so this was just like another movie to me.

It was pink on the inside. I guess that was my arm fat? Whatever. It had stopped bleeding at any rate. Originally, I was supposed to get stitches, but it would have been strange to explain to the doctor what had happened. Seth suggested that I tell him I was fooling around with a chainsaw, but I was quick to point out that the wound edges were too clean-cut for that.

Not that I thought about it, or anything.

I hadn't missed school all week. But going there with these bandages did get me some fun stares. Claire was absolutely ecstatic that I knew, but when Quil had filled her in on what happened Friday night, she nearly mauled me again when I got to school on Monday. She took to following me around and texting me every five minutes to see how I was doing, or if my arm hurt. I told her I wasn't a vampire yet, so it couldn't possibly be that bad. Claire was not amused.

She wanted me to fall for Paul. She felt she could sympathize with me, seeing as it took her fourteen years to fall for Quil. But that was only because Quil had imprinted on her when she was two, so the both of them were forced to wait anyway. And, plus, she'd known Quil all her life. I'd only just met Paul a little over a week ago. Falling in love wasn't that easy…was it?

Staring at my wounded arm was not going to heal it faster. So I pulled off the soiled bandages and left my room, cradling it at my mid-section. It hurt to move it from it's original position (hooked at the elbow) so I refrained. I did put myself through the agony three times a day, bending it straight and then back so my hand touched my shoulder, just to make sure my joints didn't freeze or get weak. Other than that, I was getting pretty good at ignoring it.

Sam and Emily -and the rest of the Pack- were sitting in the kitchen, talking amongst themselves. Well, Emily was beating Embry over the head with a wooden spoon, but I wasn't complaining. I was still mad at him for his little 'assumption' at dinner last Friday. When I entered the room, their attention turned to me.

"How you feeling?" Jake asked, reaching over to ruffle my already messy hair. I stuck my tongue out at him, before reaching over to take a lock of his own hair and begin to braid it one handed.

"I'm doing fine," I said as I twisted the strands together, "I just got a good look at my battle-wound. Wanna see?"

I held up my arm for inspection. Jared took one look and turned away, his face slightly green, while Embry and Leah made sympathetic noises at the back of their throats. "Cool!" Seth called, reaching out to gently take my arm and get a closer look. Ah, Seth, my fellow gore buff.

"That's definitely gunna scar." Came Sam and Paul's voices at the same time. They'd both been slightly upset with me over my whole 'gunna go out in the forest while a leech is on the lose' stunt. I glanced up at them from another lock of Jake's hair.

"Really?" I asked, snatching my arm away from Seth as Emily trotted gleefully over with some new gauze, "I didn't think it would. Naw, getting your arm sliced to the bone would neverscar."

Did I mention that I was equally as distempered with them? Because as soon as I was conscious enough, and after I had ascertained that everyone was okay, they'd yelled at me. No, not yelled. It was kind of a mixture of growling and half-speaking. Werewolf equivalent of yelling. I knew I deserved it. I wasn't stupid. I knew they loved me and were only yelling because they were terrified for my safety.

But I'd never responded well to being yelled at, so I thought it fit to be particularly nasty.

Paul was the smart one. He shut his mouth, and leaned against the counter. But my brother -who shared a fiftieth of my attitude- barred his teeth and growled.

"Not with the growling again, Sam." I rolled my eyes, wincing as Emily sprayed my arm with some disinfectant. "You're in your human form now, use your words." Seth and Embry snickered.

Sam's fist descended upon the table, leaving a slight indent in the wood, and a few large, ugly cracks. Emily let out a gasp and swatted at him. "That's the third table this year, Samuel Uley!" she scolded, finishing up the wrapping of my arm and sauntering over to the stove again. Sam's eyes were hard as he glared at me again, his mouth forming a thin, tight line. But there was something more than anger in his gaze; pain, fear, relief. When Sam saw me looking, he ducked his head quickly, inspecting the damage he'd done to the table. He could have lost me that night. Was I so blind as to only realize how it must have affected him now? It wasn't Sam's fault that he didn't know how to show his emotions, he must be overwhelmed. Man, I suck at being a sister.

Slowly, with my good hand, I reached to rest it against his forearm. At my freezing touch he stiffened, then relaxed, and placed his own gigantic paw -no pun intended- over mine. I squeezed his arm, urging him to look at me.

"Sam," I said quietly, when he didn't comply. The rest of the Pack pretended not to notice, each in turn beginning to talk to one another, Embry whistling tunelessly and averting his eyes to the ceiling. Sam flicked his dark gaze up to my light one.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and his hand tightened over mine briefly, before he stood and grinned at me, pacing over to wrap his arms around Emily's waist. They were so happy together, it made me almost want to puke. In a good way. The way they looked at each other.

And then it hit me.

It was May. Near the end of school, seeing as we got out on the sixth of June. Ten days after that, on June sixteenth, Emily would officially become a Uley. Officially become my sister.

"Holy shit, your wedding is in a month!" I cried suddenly, once all the math was done. Twelve pairs of eyes slid to me, once again, looking at me as if I was insane.

"Um…yes?" Emily said, her brows knitting together. I looked at her incredulously. "And I haven't been helping with the planning or…or anything! I _do _suck at being a sister," I mumbled, more to myself than to the rest of the Pack, who were now sniggering quietly at my sudden outburst. Emily clucked her tongue at me, but her smile was radiant.

"Would you like to help? I need another girl to help me decide things, and Leah just doesn't like doing it." Emily stuck her tongue out at the only female werewolf, who, in turn, crossed her eyes. I rolled my own, tossing a wadded up napkin at Leah's face.

"Of course I want to help. As soon as possible," I said, linking my fingers together and placing my forearms upon the table. I winced and gritted my teeth as my wrist bent to accommodate the position. Paul started toward me, then thought better of it, and stopped. I watched him for a few moments, and he watched me, both of our eyes locked together. We often had these little 'moments', as Jacob so fondly called them. I knew the rest of the Pack were just waiting for the day I'd finally admit that I loved him.

But I didn't even know if I loved him, so I don't know how I could possibly go ahead and admit it. And it made me kind of angry that one day, maybe, I might have to prove all of them right.

_Douche bag_, my subconscious whined, and I could visualize another me with a deep scowl on her face, crossing her arms and setting her jaw childishly. I growled and smacked myself in the forehead, willing her to shut up.

When I looked back up, the rest of the Pack was staring at me. Paul was smirking.

"Inside-your-head-girl again?" He asked, crossing his own arms and leaning against the counter on his hip. I flashed my pearly white teeth at him for a moment, then settled for a glower. Being around all these wolves was really starting to rub off on me.

"I've named her Sharon," I suddenly murmured, and Paul and I burst out into raucous fits of laughter.

* * *

I don't know where time is going. I really don't. La Push _must _have some sort of spell cast over it. Maybe there are witches here too. Now that'd be a party.

The last day of school came in the blink of an eye. I lay in my bed contemplating that fact the night before, the fifth of June. Paul was still mad at me. Claire and I had become closer than ever, along with Emily and I. Oh, and Kim, Jared's imprint. She's really quiet, complete opposite of me, but when she gets comfortable she can be a real hoot.

Yes, I just used that phrase. I think Billy's rubbing off on me too.

Jake had asked me a few weeks ago if I had enough free time to go and help Billy clean the house every Friday afternoon. I'd been looking for a way to get to know more people around here, so I immediately accepted. To tell you the truth, Billy doesn't really seem that old. Sure his hair is more gray than black now, but he doesn't _look _old, despite it. And he has this air about him, that he commands respect, and everyone immediately, willingly gives it.

But Billy is hilarious. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my Friday afternoons.

"What exactly did you do to this thing?" I asked one particularly difficult Friday afternoon, fumbling with the Comcast cable box wires that had, somehow, become frayed and disconnected. I glanced up at Billy from my electrical prison. He just shrugged at me from his chair a few -safe- feet away, grinning.

"I'm not exactly sure. The picture got fuzzy, so I decided I'd see if it was the plugs." He looked sheepish.

I pulled one particularly frayed, destroyed wire up from the floor, glaring at it intently. "Billy, did you cut these things open or something?" I asked, still staring at the cord as if it were about to come to life and bite me. I glanced back up at him, and pulled the whole box out from beneath the television. "Good thing you're wearing black," I mumbled, humming a funeral procession song as I tossed it in the trash.

I laughed from my bed, curling up on my side as I remembered. Billy had been so sure that he could save the thing, he nearly caught his fingers on fire trying after I left. Jacob relented, and purchased him a new box.

My thoughts, only half reluctantly, found their way back to Paul. He'd been distant with me, which only made me want to love him more, but Sharon wasn't having it. I'd been beginning to wonder if I was becoming seriously schizophrenic, but Sharon assured me that wasn't so.

It's a joke, people. Laugh.

I'd convinced Sam to stop all the extra patrols for Paul, so he could get some more sleep. I was afraid that those circles would permanently stick themselves under his eyes for all eternity, and I didn't want that. He still came by the house every day before and after work, and sometimes I was there and sometimes I wasn't. He'd stopped coming Friday afternoons because he knew I would be at Billy's, and he even once surprised me by showing up there with Oreos and peanut butter for me to snack on (my favorite. Who knew Paul could be so sensitive?), which only made me fall _that _much faster for him than I already was. Because he listened. He _actually _listened.

My arm was healed. It was still a little pink and disgusting looking, but the wound had closed without complication, which was good. My whole arm was still tender to the touch, and I still had to wear a thin wrap of bandages around it, but all in all it wasn't as gruesome as it was before. Seth and I spent hours contemplating the scars that now adorned my left arm, and we conceded that the horror movie scars didn't give it justice. I was tactful enough not to mention anything about 'scars' in front of Emily.

Speaking of Emily, the wedding was still on, and she'd only just begun to freak out. I never realized how much of a perfectionist she is until Jared showed up carrying the wrong flowers to see if they'd match the dresses. She'd asked me to be a bridesmaid, and I quickly accepted, but I wasn't all too fond of the whole dress thing. Neither was Leah, but Kim, Rachel (Jacob's sister) and Claire were fit to burst.

But the dresses were gorgeous. Pale pink silk. _Silk_. Emily must be insane. The hem came just above the knee in a tight, pencil-skirt-ish fashion, and they were strapless. I didn't know how I was going to get around in the matching pink heals, but I guess I'd have to manage. Kim was giving Leah and I 'walking lessons', which we greatly needed, because we were both used to wearing flat-soled tennis shoes most of the time. We looked our legs had been in casts for months on end; wobbly and stupid.

And I was magically paired with Paul as my escort. My family is subtle, no? Embry had Leah, much to both of their distastes, but Emily ordered them to bite their tongues and suck it up. It wasn't like they had to dance together…much. Jared would be escorting Kim, of course, and Emily tactfully forced Sam into having Seth escort Rachel. Emily was hopeful that he would imprint, but of course, she wouldn't tell the guys that. She wouldn't even tell _Leah _that. Another obvious fact, Quil would be escorting Claire. It was all worked out. Until…

"OH GOD!"

I leaped up from my bed, staring wildly around the room. Emily's voice sounded distraught and over the moon at the same time, so we couldn't possibly be under attack. I heard Sam's oaf-like footsteps thundering down the stairs, and I thought it prudent to follow his lead.

We burst into the kitchen (well, _he _burst into the kitchen, _I_ ran smack dab into his back and found my butt on the bottom stair) at the same time, our faces mirroring each other's. He was searching around the room, his dark eyes glittering and tense, waiting for the attack. "What?" he cried, "what? What is it?" Had he been looking at his fiancée, he would have seen the small, white test in her hand.

"Oh god," I mimicked my sister-to-be, pushing past my oblivious brother and leaning over her shoulder to read the outcome. _Positive_.

Emily and I screamed at the exact same time, and she wrenched me over the back of the chair in a vice-like hug. We held hands and jumped around in a circle like little girls, speaking in high-pitched, excited voices.

"I thought you guys were waiting!"

"We tried! I'm so excited!"

"I know, me too!"

Another shriek in unison. Sam covered his ears. "What the hell is going on?!"

I nearly threw the test at his face. Please, _please _don't tell me he doesn't know what it is.

"What is it?"

_Of course_.

"You should tell him, Em," I said, letting go of her hands and stepping back, only to jump up and plant myself on the counter. I watched my brother's face with amused eyes.

"Sam," Emily said, placing a hand on his bewildered cheek, "we're gunna have a baby." She bit her lip, waiting.

Sam's expression remained confused, but his brows knitted together. "When?" he asked, his voice a few octaves higher than normal. Emily looked at him incredulously, so I decided to clarify.

"In nine months, you dunce. Hey…that rhymed!" I was fairly delighted by this simple fact, but quickly turned my attention to Sam again.

His face rapidly changed from shock, to fear, to shock again, and then to the biggest, stupidest looking smile I'd ever seen him wear. _Ever_.

He lifted Emily right up off the ground in one arm, and snagged me from the counter in the other. I tried to grab onto the refrigerator and hold on for dear life before he started bouncing us up and down, to no avail. It took him a few seconds to realize that Emily actually had the child _inside _of her, and that he didn't want to give it brain damage. He plopped me down on the counter again and set Emily's feet back on the floor gingerly. He was definitely going to be tiptoeing around her even more so now that she was pregnant than usual. And he's _pretty _intent upon it now.

After a few more moments of squealing and jumping -which Sam joined in on, oddly enough-, the father/husband-to-be dashed out the door to inform the patrolling wolves about the great news. Emily insisted that I get up to bed, because my last day of school was tomorrow and she didn't want me tired for it. "What exactly do we do on the last day of school, Em?" I asked as she forcefully ushered me up the stairs. She laughed and kissed my cheek. "Goodnight, Nay. See you in the morning!" she trilled happily, as I snapped my bedroom door closed again.

I meandered over to my bed, suddenly exhausted. This whole baby thing was trying, I'll give it that. Personally, I'd never wanted kids. I couldn't really see myself as the 'mothering' type. I just wasn't good with them. I had limited patience and I was rather fond of my eardrums, but for Sam and Emily's spawn, I think I'd do anything. That was my little niece or nephew in there. Excitement bubbled in my stomach, manifesting itself in the big, stupid grin that took over my lips. I fell asleep with that smile and woke with it.

I groaned as the alarm on my phone started ringing shrilly. That, accompanied by the slew of voices downstairs in the kitchen, roused me fully from my slumber. Rubbing my eyes, I reached over and ran a hand down the buttons of my phone, successfully quieting the alarm. Knowing me, I'd roll right over and go back to sleep. So I quickly swung my legs over the edge of the bed, jolting upright as my bare feet touched the freezing bed frame. Running a hand over my face, I stumbled to the drawer, pulling on a random pair of jeans. I glanced out the window, and my eyes shot open fully.

It was _bright_. And _sunny_.

I squealed and flung my window open, relishing in the feel of the sun's warm rays on my skin. Yes, it was warm, but the breeze carried a fall-like chill, much like late October. I'd wear a short sleeved t-shirt, and my hoodie over it. Perfect.

I dressed quickly, throwing together my usual outfit, substituting my usual thermal for a tight fitting, white wife beater. So, maybe it wasn't a t-shirt, maybe I was getting a little presumptuous, but I didn't care. It was _sunny_.

I slipped my shoes on and danced down the stairs, the happy, techno-ish beats of Motion City Soundtrack blaring in my ears. Most of the Pack was seated at the table, weary and wind-swept, but smiling nonetheless.

"Well you're in a mighty good mood, little miss," Embry said, mimicking a western accent and tipping an imaginary hat. I turned around, paused my music, and tipped my own ten gallon. "It's _sunny_, Embry," I sighed, not bothering to go along with the western charade more than the hat bit, "look outside. Just look. The _sun_." Embry yawned and rolled his eyes. "I was just out in it, kid," he said, stifling another yawn. "Out in it all night actually. Saw the sun rise."

Jacob, Quil, and Jared -who, I presume, had been patrolling with him through the night- all nodded their own weary heads.

The screen door burst open suddenly, revealing Claire in all her tall, beautiful glory. Her legs looked a mile long in dark plaid Capri pants, topped with a short sleeved, button up blouse.

As I'd expected, she dashed right over to me and commenced the jumping and squealing.

"Last day of school!"

"And it's _sunny_!"

"And it's the _last day of school_!"

"And it's SUNNY!"

"WE GET IT!" Jared was the one to speak now. Claire and I didn't stop out bouncing, but we both looked over to him. The poor wolf had his head in his hands, rubbing rhythmically, attempting to wake himself up. "Sorry," he said, once he'd gotten over himself, "you're just…loud. And I'm…tired."

I couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Aw, Jared, you sound so whiny. It's almost sweet."

"Almost!" Claire felt the need to clarify, ceasing the bounces and thumping a hand over her heart. "Quil! Look at you, baby, you look so tired!" She rushed right over to him, cradling his head in her hands. Quil leaned into the embrace, closing his dark eyes peacefully and letting out a strange humming noise. I decided not to comment.

"Hey, uh, where's Paul?" I asked, leaning nonchalantly against the counter, turning my music up again. Jacob let out a bark of laughter.

"Hots for Paulie," he repeated, in I assume what he'd hoped was a quiet breath. "DO NOT!" I screamed back, as Claire snatched my wrist and dragged me forcefully from the house. Her beat up, black Volkswagen bug was waiting, still quaking as the engine ran. "Get in," Claire commanded cheerfully, throwing open her own door and plopping heavily into her seat.

It was a short, nice ride to school. Claire had rolled down all four windows, allowing the chilly breeze to ruffle our hair as the sun beat down against our skin. It felt wonderful, absolutely amazing, to have the sun back after all these weeks of dreary clouds.

Claire pulled into one of the remaining spaces on the faded black top, pulling her keys out of the ignition and dropped them into her purse. I jumped out of the care gracefully (sarcasm) and caught myself quickly against the warm metal hood. Claire checked her watch, and blanched. "Oh god, I'm already late for the Student Council meeting. See you at lunch!" she waved, before dashing off to the heavy, metal doors.

That left me alone in the parking lot, meandering slowly toward a shaded grove of trees near the back of the building. I thought this completely harmless, and sat heavily down against one of the cool trunks, pulling my knees against my chest.

"Well, hello there."

My eyes snapped abruptly open, and my once peaceful expression turned hard.

"Evan," I greeted coldly, narrowing my eyes. He'd never made a secret of his distaste for me, but the snide comments about me being 'easy' had quieted after a month of ignoring him. It didn't phase me, his teasing.

The dark haired boy let out a chuckle, shaking his head, his hands tucked firmly in his pockets. "And how are we today, Nayeli?" He asked, feigning nonchalance, as his eyes flicked from me, to the trees surrounding us. I immediately stiffened.

"I'm doing fine, Evan. Why do you ask?"

Suddenly, his face broke out into the most terrifying sneer I'd ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Well, damn.

"Because, Uley," he said, straightening his shoulders and glaring down at me, "you won't be 'fine' for much longer."

Two other shapes appeared from the shade, both with light skin and faces full of malice. They must attend Forks High, because they didn't look like they belonged here at all.

"What the hell is going on, Evan?" I cried, leaning away from the three boys and scooting back against the tree. _So screwed_, _SO SCREWED_, Sharon was screaming. My fear made my tongue taste like metal, my teeth lock together.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing…don't," I advised in my most threatening voice, which sounded meek even in it's severity.

His hands descended upon the tops of my arms, jarring my injury. I let out a squeak and attempted to fight back, but apparently, Evan Hanson had been working out. "EVAN!" I screeched, writhing as he dragged me roughly to my feet. "Stop it, you fuck face, that hurts! What the hell is wrong with-"

And then, _his _fist hit my nose.

It was painful, but I didn't feel the sharp _crack _of the bone, like I should have. I felt the ache as the muscles jarred and then tightened, and tears sprung to my eyes as blood poured from both nostrils. I crumpled against Evan's hold, rubbing my nose gingerly with two fingers. No, not broken, thankfully.

Two pairs of white hands took my arms, allowing Evan to free his hands. He cracked all ten knuckles, leering dangerously. "How'd that feel?" he asked, nearly singing in his glee at my pain. I felt my face turn down into a scowl, as more blood dripped from my nose and onto the green grass.

"Bite me," I snarled.

Evan raised his foot and kicked me in the stomach, mustering as much strength as he could. I felt my insides churn and recoil from the pain, and my throat constricted, forcing me to dry-heave the air from my esophagus. I hadn't eaten anything, so there was nothing to regurgitate, which the force of his kick clearly would have caused. Another choking heave cut off my air supply. Evan laughed.

"Not so high and mighty now, are we?" he chuckled, and the boy on my right shifted uneasily as I gasped for air.

"I don't think we should be doing this, man," he said, his voice unusually high, "you're really hurting her. I think she's learned her lesson, let's just go!" He was getting frantic, I could nearly feel it radiating off him in waves. Evan shook his head.

The bushes rustled, and I groaned lightly. More of his henchmen, looking to abuse me too, maybe? _Joy_.

I'd never expected wild, furious snarling to sound like music to my ears.

Paul leaped from the tree cover, his cut off sweats hanging dangerously low on his beautiful hips. Both of the boys holding me captive shrank away and dropped my arms, allowing me to crumple to the ground in a heap as another heave racked my body. Blood coated my lips, leaking from the back of my throat, which had been scratched raw with the force of it.

The light skinned youths turned and fled silently, the bushes crackling and waving as they dashed through them, leaving their comrade to Paul's wrath.

My dark skinned savior was pummeling Evan against the tree above me, his teeth gnashing together with every shove and snarl.

"You" -shove- "will never" -shove- "touch her" -shove- "AGAIN!" -_crack_.

The tree splintered under Paul's continued bashing, leaning against it's fellows as if for support. I moaned as the final heave struck my body, bringing only a little more blood with it. My throat burned, my nose ached, and I could almost feel my stomach beginning to purple with bruises. But Paul was here, now, and he had saved me _again_.

He dropped Evan to the ground, and the boy lay motionless, unconscious. His chest was rising and falling steadily, something I dearly wished Paul had put an end to.

Paul's hands fluttered delicately over my face and shoulders, inspecting every inch of me, his eyes a slew of different emotions; rage, fear, relief that I was still alive and breathing. With the back of his hand, Paul wiped the blood from under my nose and mouth, cleaning it on his already dingy pants. He then scooped me up in his arms, cradling me ever so gently against his chest.

"It's okay now," he whispered as he darted back through the trees, leaving Evan's bleeding body behind, "I've got you now." His eyes raked over my face again as I buried it in his bare chest.

My happiness was palpable. Not even the pain bothered me much now, though it was still there, making my vision hazy. My head felt like it had been submerged in deep, rumbling water. Only Paul mattered now; here, with my arms wrapped around his neck, his voice whispering slowly in my ears as the forest passed us in a blur.

"I love you," he said in a strained mumble, his face pressed into my light hair.

_I love you too_, I thought against Sharon's will, _I love you too_.


	6. Chapter 6

**First of all, let me say, I am SO sorry this took so long. School has me SWAMPED, for real. But my AP history teacher has been taking it easy on us, bless him. I printed this chapter out before I uploaded it, and he loved it. It's really merely a filler, so that's why it's not that long. The wedding is next, and I'm dead excited. :D Thank you all for being so patient and reviewing. I promise I'll get the next chapter up sooner than this one, but school is lame, and homework is killer. Love you guys!**

**Love,**

**Angie Anonymous**

* * *

**SIX.**

I was consciously aware that I would be missing the last day of school.

"But Claire won't have anyone to sit with," I mumbled against Paul's chest as he slowed to a walk, still in the cover of the trees, as far away from the school as he could get. I felt the slow rumble of his chuckle through his warm skin.

"That's all you're worried about?" he asked, incredulous, after is laughter had abated. I felt his gait change as he dashed up a few unfamiliar cement stairs, and kicked open and abused looking fire engine red door.

We were in a house, I knew that much. It looked shabby from the outside, but the interior was quite nice and immaculate. Extremely immaculate, it was almost creepy.

The doorway led straight into a tiny hallway, an arch leading to a room I assumed to be the living room, and straight ahead was a bright, tiled kitchen. Stairs were to my right, going up four and then stopping on a small landing, then extending ten or so more to the upstairs. The floorboards were shining and clean as Paul dragged his bare feet across them, tracking mud as he went. I heard him grumble something about 'mops' as he set me carefully down in a rich, wooden kitchen chair.

"Where are we?" I asked in a scratchy voice, inwardly groaning as the back of my throat flamed. I reached up to rub the skin of it with my fingertips, as if attempting to soothe it from the outside. Paul pulled a glass from one of the tall cupboards, filled it with water from a bottle in the refrigerator, and handed it to me. I drank greedily as he paced over to a small pantry and pulled out a Swiffer. He began to scrub away the mud streaked against the shiny panels.

"My house," he said simply, casting a trained, scrutinizing eye over his work. Nodding to himself, Paul turned and replaced the automated mop and closed the aged, white door. I stared at him, dumbfounded.

"This is_your _house?" I asked in awe, staring around the sparkling kitchen. Paul laughed. "Yeah, it's mine," he said, leaning against the light blue counter top and watching me. "You sound surprised."

"It's just so…_clean_," I whispered, still amazed. In truth, the house smelled rather of lemons and fire smoke. A delicious scent.

Paul was chuckling again, when I finally finished sniffing the air. "Is it so hard to believe that I like to keep a clean house?" He asked, amusement still evident on his handsome features. I tried to smile back, and winced as my nose crinkled with the effort.

Paul was at my side in an instant, kneeling before me, his hot fingers sprawling gently over the tender bridge. I winced again, and he lightened his already feather-like touch. "Why didn't you fight back?" he asked, barely disguising the growl in his throat. I shrugged, rubbing at the bandages on my arm.

"I'm not really all that big. Don't get me wrong, I can fight, but they had my arms. What did you want me to do, I don't have telekinesis." Paul snorted, roughly pushing himself into a standing position as the joins in his knees crackled. He strode quickly over to the refrigerator -which he towered over- and pulled out a handful of ice. Quickly, he deposited it into a zip-lock bag, tossing it to me across the room. "Put that on your nose. I should stay over here, so it doesn't melt." He was laughing again, and I noticed that the cubes had begun to slosh already in the plastic bag. Gratefully, I pressed the watery pack to my nose, relishing in the cool feel of it.

Paul watched me intently for a moment, before pulling a dish rag from one of the drawers beneath the sink. He flicked on the faucet and wet it, running it over the counters and the inside of the sink. I watched him for a few moments as he worked, content to see the muscles of his back ripple each time he extended his arm. He whistled a tune to himself, every few moments brushing back his slightly longer hair. He had yet to cut it, and I liked it this way. It was quiet, save for Paul's whistling, the sound of the wet wash cloth hitting the counter, and our breathing. It was disturbed rather loudly when Paul's cell phone rang, spouting off a loud, rumbling of noise that sounded distinctly like "Epiphany", from Sweeney Todd. I nearly squealed in excitement.

Paul flipped open the phone carelessly, not even checking the number. "Y'ello?" he said, pinning the silver device between his ear and shoulder as he continued to wipe down the counters. I heard a soft, flirtatious voice from the other end, and immediately stiffened. _This _was new.

"Oh, hey," Paul said, his voice lowering and a small grin flitting across his features. The voice, distinctly female, spoke again, and a little laugh escaped Paul's lips. My fingers dug into the zip-lock bag I still held to my face, causing small puncture wounds. Water seeped from the holes, running down my face and onto my shirt in freezing rivers.

"Oh, really, now?" Paul was flirting back with her, I could tell. So could she, with the way her voice went from high-pitched to an even more annoying, sultry tone. I fought back the urge to take the phone from the stupid buffoon's hand and throw it down the garbage disposal.

"Well, I'll be there around seven. See you soon, Katie." Paul's voice was heavy with implications of what 'seeing her soon' could mean.

The cheerful whistling didn't start back up again as I glared venomously at Paul's back. He was still wiping the already clean counters, and I watched the tiny soap bubbles appear and disappear. After a moment, he whistled again.

"Who, if you don't mind me asking, O Secretive One, the bloody hell is 'Katie'?" I finally spouted, dropping the melted ice bag onto the table, watching as the cold water leaked onto the shining wood.

Paul turned around, like he had just noticed I was sitting there. "Katie? Oh, just a friend," he said vaguely, turning back to the counter. But not before I saw the tiny lifting of his mouth; a smirk.

"Paul, so help me God, if you lie to me again, I will not be responsible for my actions." I watched the sides of his face redden, from what I could see. "Now," I began again, in a voice forced calm, my teeth gritted together, "Who. Is. Katie."

Then he turned around, hands still on the counter, leaning the small of his back against it. Paul glared defiantly into my eyes as he answered in a serene, innocent voice. "I have a date with her tonight."

I almost felt my jaw hit the floor. My crossed arms slowly loosened of their own accord, falling limply to my sides. My knees locked together as I threw myself to my feet, knocking the wooden chair out of my way. Paul flinched as it scraped across the floor.

"Your…what?" I sputtered, my hands balling into fists. "Are you even _allowed _to have dates?" Surely he wouldn't cheat on his imprint, would he? Could they do that?

"I'm allowed to do whatever I want." His reply was firm, yet airy, and he shrugged and turned away again My jaw dropped even lower, it was beginning to get painful.

"What do you mean 'whatever you want'? You can't just cheat on your imprint!" I cried, throwing my arms out dramatically. No way. _No way_ that skank was going to touch _my _Paul.

_Stupid bitch_, Sharon cried, beating against the sides of my brain, _let's kick her ass_!

Paul hadn't turned around, but his voice was still serene. I wanted to slap him, but that would surely hurt me more than him. "As I said, I can do whatever I want. You haven't accepted being my imprint yet, and I'm bored. So, I'm going to get it where I can."

I froze. That 'it' had better not be the 'it' I'm thinking of.

"What do you mean, 'it'?" I asked, my voice wavering, giving away my distress. Other than a tiny flinch that I wouldn't have seen if I wasn't watching each and every one of his movements like a hawk, Paul gave no reaction.

"It. Stuff. Look, I'm due for patrol. So stay here until one of the guys comes and takes you home, okay?"

In one swift movement, Paul turned and pressed his lips to my forehead, and disappeared out the back door.

I stood there for a moment, shocked, disoriented, my throat closing, making it difficult to breathe.

Paul was going on a date tonight, with some whore named Katie, and was going to get 'it'.

Hell no.

In a flourish, I picked up the chair I'd just been sitting on and wailed it as hard as I could at the counter. It hit with an obnoxious _bang_ and fell to the floor, a few pieced of splintered wood crashing down with it. As I eyed the counter, I saw the welt I'd left. Good.

And that was how my day continued. I meandered around Paul's downstairs, inspecting every inch of impeccably clean furniture. His big screen television called to me after a good two hours of this. It was then that I realized that there was nothing but cartoons and Judge Judy repeats on at ten o'clock in the morning.

I didn't feel the need to raid his refrigerator. I wasn't hungry or thirsty, my throat had begun to feel better after that glass of water, but I was sure that if I tried to digest even the smallest thing, I'd be heaving again all over Paul's floor.

_Good_, Sharon bit, _something for the dick to clean up_. _Leave him a nice little present_.

Beside myself, I snorted. He would already be angry enough with me when he saw the chair and counter. I wished I was stronger, I wished I could break it. Break _something_. Like the hold Paul had on me.

I knew I loved him, sure I did. I'd finally admitted it to myself. But could I admit it to Paul? That was the question.

No, I finally decided, I couldn't. Sure, it'd probably sway him to cancel his date with _her_. Sure, it'd end in a happy life, marriage, maybe even kids for me. I'd finally have Paul; he was all I wanted, all I could ask for now. I didn't want to prove him right, to prove everyone right. It made me seem like I was fickle; like I didn't know what I want. Did I know what I wanted?

I didn't think so.

I heaved a sigh and flipped over, my back against the cushions and my legs against the back of the couch and wall. My hair hung like a curtain down the green fabric and onto the floor, looking much like a sandy puddle. I didn't bother to check the clock, I knew it was late. I had lain there for hours, contemplating the pros and cons of confessing to Paul that I loved him, and had gotten absolutely nowhere.

Suddenly, I heard my familiar ring tone drift from the hallway to my ears. Squealing, I rolled off of the couch, hitting the floor with my beat up shoes, and pelted full speed toward my bag at the door. I managed to reach the phone and hit 'talk' just before the last ring sounded.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly, not bothering to check the number. Who else could it be?

"Nayeli?" came Sam's voice from the other end, furious and winded. He sounded like he'd just been running, and from the sound of the wind whistling past the receiver, he hadn't stopped once he reached his human form.

"Sam?" I responded, holding the phone to my ear and pirouetting to waltz back down the hall, pulling my bag with me by the long strap.

"I'm going to kill him," Sam crowed, using his Alpha voice. My blood froze as I stopped walking, dropping my bag with a loud thud.

"No! Sam, no, just leave it alone, okay? Paul took care of it." My pleas were falling on deaf ears as Sam snarled, the sound reverberating in my ears.

"I saw it in Paul's mind when I phased. I'm going to find him, Nay, you can't stop me."

"Just let the court take care of it, if you must!" I cried, exasperated. "Just because you're the Chief doesn't mean you get to decide who lives and dies. You wouldn't be able to kill him anyway. You're too soft." My teasing had begun to calm him, I could tell, because his snarling had lessened to a dull rumble. "Besides," I continued, actually telling the truth this time, "it's not so bad. My face isn't even bruised."

Sam growled again. "And your stomach?"

I gingerly reached down to lift the hem of my beater. Sure enough, just as I'd suspected, there were large, purple bruises covering the surface, each running into the other. Sighing, I let my shirt fall. "It's fine, too."

There was a disbelieving snort from Sam's end. I bristled.

"Well, you stay at Paul's house. I'm going to run by Evan's and see how he's…doing," my brother sniggered, before promptly hanging up on me.

"Sam!" I cried into the dead end. Growling at the dial tone, I shoved my phone into my hoodie pocket, and went back to my stance on the couch.

No sooner had I entered the living room, did the front door burst open. I screamed, and rolled off the couch, hitting the wood floor flat on my back. As the air found it's way back into my lungs, Paul shot around the corner, his eyes bright and furious. When he saw me, his search for my attacker stopped, and he leaned against the wall nonchalantly. "Have a nice day?"

"Glorious," I growled, righting myself and curling into a ball on one of the lush cushions. I rested my chin on my knees as Paul stared me down, his eyes searching. Finally, he shrugged.

"Whatever, I'm getting ready for my date and then I'm out. Think you'll still be here later?" His voice was thick with implications again, and I almost spat at him.

"I may be. Sam might come get me soon," I said icily, and then my eyes narrowed. "Why, is your little skank coming home with you?" My voice steadily rose to accommodate his ears as Paul tramped heavily up the stairs. I heard the distinct sounds of him rooting through his closet and drawers, and the sound of his belt when it hit the floor.

"None of your business," he finally answered a few minutes later as he dashed back into the living room, not looking at me, snatching his wallet from the couch-side table and stuffing it in his pocket. Paul turned, toward the door, calling a quick, "See you later, maybe!" behind him, and closing the door.

Then, I burst into tears.

What was he thinking? Didn't he know I loved him? I'd made it obvious on numerous occasions that I felt _something _for him. Maybe he was just stupid. Yes, stupid. Deep down, though, I knew it wasn't his fault.

_I'd_ been the one who told him I didn't love him. _I'd_ been the one who'd pushed him away. It was all my fault.

I don't know how long I sat curled in that ball, my legs pressed against my chest, slowly reducing my throat to soreness and my eyes to puffy messes of black mascara. It didn't matter to me anymore, and I kept crying. Sometime during this stint, my hair had come into a messy bun at the back of my neck, and was now cascading loosely down my back again. I curled up tighter as another wave of misery crashed over me. Paul would choose her. She was probably older, beautiful, instead of thin and okay-looking. She was probably nicer, too. She wouldn't drive him away.

The door opened, and I jumped.

Paul's voice drifted into my ears, laughing and humorous.

Her voice followed after, asking if they could go to his bedroom.

I didn't give him time to answer.

I leapt off the couch, dragging my hoodie sleeve over my eyes, wiping away the makeup and tears. With deliberately loud footsteps, I stomped into the front hall.

Paul's horrified gaze met mine as I crossed my arms, glaring fitfully at the pair of them. Katie was blonde, sporty, and small. Her breasts were so obviously fake that I wondered how she could stand it. Her perfectly -artificially- tanned skin was glowing orange in the hall lighting, and her fake blue eyes flashed.

"Katie, this is Nayeli," Paul introduced carefully, eyeing my murderous glare and Katie's haughty, twitching eyes.

"It's so nice that you let your little sister stay here, Paul," she crooned, brushing her fingers over Paul's jaw line and down his neck, all the while watching me, knowing that I was definitely more than a little sister. I growled.

"Little sister _this_, you son of a bitch." And I leaped at her.

Katie shrieked and shoved her hands out in front of her, catching my shoulders and making me wince. I grabbed her wrists and threw them away from me, raining my fists down upon the top of her head and chest as I could reach. Her shrieking continued as Paul stood there, dumbfounded, as I punched and kicked his date as hard as I could. "OUT!" I screamed, throwing her from the doorway and onto the porch. Her fake body landed with a thud as she stumbled over the threshold, muttering curses at me. I slammed the door heavily in her face, my breathing hard, new tears streaming down my cheeks. And, with that, I leaned down to get my bag, hitched it up onto my shoulder, and strode out the back door. Rain pelted me hard in the face like a million icy needles.

Paul called my name, summoning me. "Nay! Nayeli, come on, don't do this!"

With all the breath I could muster, I stopped walking and whipped around, my hair billowing in my face.

"I never want to see you again!" Were the only words that left my mouth, before a broken sob found its way out, and I ran.


	7. Chapter 7

**Jebusharryyoseph, please don't throttle me. Remember what I said about my AP history teacher taking it easy on us? Well...no. I AM SOOO SORRRRRRYYYY that I haven't updated in like, a month. I miss summer, when all I had to do was write D:. Oh, and I know I said the wedding was coming next, but that chapter...disappeared. So right now, I'm in the process of rewriting it. So here's another filler, a very short filler...but an update, nonethenless! I DOUBLE PINKY SWEAR that the next chapter is marital bliss. I missed you guys :D**

**Love,**

**Angie Anonymous**

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**SEVEN.**

I don't know how long it took me to find Sam and Emily's house. My stomach was aching and my throat was burning again. I was dying for a glass of water, and my soft, warm bed. The rain was continually making me shiver, the fierce wind tearing my hair either away from my face or into it. My eyes were stinging with the needle-like drops as they hit directly into my eyes and ran from my sopping hair down my face. It felt as if my teeth were going to shatter.

And, finally, the tiny shack came into view. My warm tears mixed with the frigid drops as I burst through the door, throwing my bag on the floor. Emily was in the kitchen, at the stove, to catch me when I fell.

"Nayeli!" she screeched, wrapping her arms around my middle and hauling me from the floor. "Emily…" I sobbed, clutching her around the neck. Her fear stricken-eyes took in my expression, my black-streaked face and ragged appearance.

"What's happened? Is everyone okay?" she asked immediately, sitting me down in a chair, leaving both of her hands on my shoulders. Sensing her distress, her worry for me, for Sam, for any of the pack, I swallowed the rest of my tears.

"Everyone is fine, Em, I just don't feel well. I'm going to go take a shower." I pressed a freezing kiss to her forehead, before slowly standing and thudding up the stairs.

I tore my shirt and hoodie off, throwing them to the tiled floor. My jeans met them with a loud, wet smack. The shower was on and steaming before I even got off my socks.

I hoped I hadn't let the chill set in too much. It's exactly what I needed now, to get sick ten days before the wedding. I grumbled inwardly about this as I stepped into the heated spray, quivering as it hit my glacial skin.

So, Paul wanted it to be that way, then? Well, two could play at that game.

Okay, so, maybe one could play at that game.

I knew I would never be able to 'cheat' on Paul. Not even one single date with another man. I didn't want it. I didn't want anyone. I wanted Paul. I _loved _him.

Hurting like this wouldn't usually be an option for me. I had never cried over boys; never, not once. It just didn't work that way. And now, after only little over a month of knowing that stupid werewolf, I was sobbing in the shower as I squeezed shampoo from the bottle and lathered it into my hair, watching the suds drift down my neck and hit the tiled floor of the shower. They disappeared down the clean, silver drain, and I found myself wondering vaguely at the irony of it; Sam probably had more hair (in one form, anyway) than the whole of La Push combined. And this drain was one of the cleanest I'd ever seen. How odd.

I finished my shower faster than I'd have liked, but I found myself unable to stand under the cooling spray any longer. I swept my hair up into a towel, pulling the other one tight around my body, and sauntered sleepily back to my room. The envelope on my pillow is what got me shivering, the stark whiteness contrasting with the dark cloth of my pillowcase and comforter. With a quivering hand on the doorknob, I quietly pushed the door closed. A chilling breeze drifted from my still open window, the trees rustling with it's force. The heavy scrawl on the front of the envelope read my name in large, capital letters. With shaking fingers, I picked up the paper and opened it, pulling out the crudely folded lined paper inside.

Nayeli,

I hope you're reading this. You had better be, because I'm getting later and later for my patrol. Sam's going to be mad, if he's not already, he will be by the sunrise.

I'm so sorry. I really am. Katie, she was just a fling. I thought you didn't care. I didn't think you wanted to see me anymore; I was bored, could you blame me? I mean, you haven't been exactly the sweetest to me this past month. But I don't blame you, either, for being angry with me right now. You have every right in the world to never want to see my stupid face again.

The only reason I'm writing is because I want you to know that I love you, and only you. I will love you forever, and, even if you don't want me, I'll always be there if you need me. I can promise you that you will never suffer again, by my hand or by anyone else's. And if you find another man, he's lucky to have you, I just hope you'll invite me to the wedding.

Please, know that I want you more than anything, and I want you to be happy. It's all that matters to me right now, anything that puts a smile on your face is a godsend. I just wish I was able to do that right now.

I love you, forever,

Paul

I pulled the crumpled paper to my chest, feeling the tears welling behind my eyes. I don't know how it was possible to love him even more than I already did; so much that it hurt. The familiar tightening of my chest forced me down onto the bed, towel and all, still clutching the letter.

And then, I realized that he hadn't asked forgiveness.

Could I forgive him? It seemed unlikely, right now, anyway, to forgive and forget all about the whole incident. Sharon was bellowing that he didn't deserve my love anymore, that I should just forget about him and move along to someone else, _Mr. Right Now_. Unable to bear the thought of a life without Paul, I flung myself up from the bed and pulled on my pajamas, running the gel-handled brush through my hair quickly, flicking on the blow dryer as I did. It was painfully obvious that I was searching for things to occupy my time, to keep my mind from drifting to Paul and Katie, and what they could have possibly done on their date. Just thinking of them together -her, laughing, him casting those flirtatious little smiles he was so good at- made me sick.

When my hair was dried, I roughly pulled the hairdryer from the plug, yanking the cord out from the bottom of the handle. I shrieked suddenly, all my anger pooling in my throat as I let out a horrible, grating noise. I heard Emily drop a few utensils downstairs, but right now I couldn't trouble myself to care. The noise died in my throat as I sunk down onto my bed, curling up under the blankets, tears streaming down my face and onto my pillow. Just like that, I fell asleep.

The next morning, my head ached.

Well, ached is an understatement. In reality, it felt like a thousand gnomes were dancing around in the confines of my brain with little hammers, hacking their way through my skull. Overall, it was not a pleasant sensation, coupled with a stuffy nose and cough. Each time I sniffed, my nose throbbed, adding to my misery.

I lay curled under the blankets at five thirty that morning, watching the sky begin to lighten, but no sun came. Another cloudy day in Forks; go figure.

The heavy sounds of Sam's footsteps brought me to fuller attention. I pushed my head up from the pillow, my throat constricting, bringing on the fifth coughing fit that hour. My throat tightened and I coughed and wheezed again as Sam thrust open the door, his dark head cocked to one side. "You're sick, aren't you?" he asked, his brows furrowing. I glared at him evilly. "No, not at all. I'm fit as a fiddle. Gunna go run a marathon now, back later," I grumbled, my voice an odd mixture of my normal tone and the raspy, throaty sound of sickness. Sam grimaced. "Stay away from Emily," he said sternly, reaching down to place a steaming hand against my already hot forehead, "with the baby, she can't afford to get sick." It was my turn to grimace. "Oh snap," I mumbled, rubbing my warm face with a freezing hand. I immediately began to shiver. "I'll go somewhere. I don't' want to get her infected, especially with the baby, and all this shit with the wedding. She can't afford to be down for a few days."

By the end of my speech, Sam was smiling. "I know exactly where I can take you. Come on." Without waiting for my response, Sam reached down and plucked me from my bed, leaving me in the embarrassing, too tight Hooters t-shirt and overlarge sweatpants I'd worn to bed. Carefully arranging my limbs so he wouldn't bash me against the door as he left, Sam pulled my phone from the charger, held my bag and other necessities with one arm, and carted me from the house.

"No, Sam, no fucking way," I stated, planting my heels firmly into the floor of his Jeep and shaking my throbbing head. Weakened, I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. I heard Sam's door click as it opened, then felt his general weight leave the left side of the truck as he leaped down. I half expected him to leave me there in the car, where I gladly would have stayed. I felt my door whoosh open, and then I was very unceremoniously taken into two very large, thankfully warm arms.

"Damn you, Samuel Levi Uley, I told you I wasn't going!"

"Oh, yes you are, young lady! Paul's the only one not on patrol today. You're staying at his house until Jake gets home tonight."

"Saaaaaam!"

"Nayelliiiii!"

With a gruff noise, Sam set me on my feet in the doorway of the stupid house. I glanced at the kitchen; the chair was still on the floor, slightly splintered. A sound akin to snoring drifted through the entryway to the living room. Sam took a glance around, and then barked, "Paul!"

A grunt and a thud greeted us as Paul flung himself into the hallway, his hair disheveled and his basketball shorts sagging on his hips. Obviously not self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair, his sorrowful eyes flicking from me to my brother. I leaned heavily against Sam, my head swimming. "She sick?" Paul asked in a voice thickened with sleep. I made a derisive noise at the back of my throat, wincing as it caused another wave of fire to envelope my esophagus. Sam grimaced.

"She's going to stay here until Jake gets off patrol. She'll be staying at his house tonight; we can't afford Emily to get sick now. Okay?"

Without waiting for a response, Sam kissed the top of my head, and bolted out the door, tearing his shirt off as he went. I was on the couch in a matter of minutes.

A pillow was under my head, a thick, blue blanket covering my body. Paul was fussing, tucking it against me and fluffing the un-covered pillow. The whole placed smelled like him; heavenly. I did my best to stay angry.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked after a few more moments of my sullen sighs and his tucking in. I growled up at him, folding my shivering arms taught across my chest.

"If you talk to me at all today, I will cheerfully shove a cactus up your ass," I threatened, untwining one of my fingers long enough to point in his face. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, before he raised his hands in surrender and backed away, falling backward into the leather lay-z-boy. His dark eyes found mine again, pleading and sad, but I would not budge.

"Forgive me?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Please die."

Paul huffed angrily, his fists shaking. I glanced over at him quickly, my brows furrowed, caught between indecision. As I watched him close his eyes, I closed my own and, with a sigh, rolled over so my back faced him.

I heard the chair squeak, the floorboards rumble, and then the door slam. Paul was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**I just wanted to say...that I am SO EFFING SORRY that it took so long to get this chapter up. Lord knows I must have re-written it like, a million times because A) I wasn't happy with it, or B) It was lost. Like six times. But whatever, I'm not bitter at all...**

**So, FINALLY. YAY. I promise that my updates will be a lot closer together after this. School has been kicking my ass, and we just got back from a senior/junior trip to DC, and we're going to New York in Feb., so I'll be gone a few days during that time. Uh..yes...updates over, pretty much. I love this chapter, and I love you guys for staying with this story while I procrastinate and procrastinate some more. Thank you all :)**

**Love,**

**Angie Anonymous**

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**EIGHT.**

It was physically painful being in that house.

Paul had left almost six hours ago and hadn't returned since. Not even a call or a text message to assure me that he was okay, and wasn't actually dying, like I'd told him to do.

By the time Jake came to pick me up, I was in hysterics.

"Whoa, tell me what happened again, from the top?" Jake asked as he carried me easily to his truck. My legs were pulled up against my neck as I cried into them, my voice barely audible.

"I told him to go die, Jake! Doesn't he have to do what I tell him?! Oh god, if he committed suicide just because I told him to, I'll kill myself. I really will!" Another wave of sobs racked over my body as Jake set me down carefully into the front seat of the truck, chuckling to himself.

"Nayeli, as smart as you are, you're really dramatic."

I glared evilly at him, and he faltered.

"I mean…uh, what I mean to say is, that you're overreacting?"

Strike two. "Care to speak any more, Jake, or will you be contented with being the biggest asshole in the universe? Next to Paul." I was fuming, and the werewolf could see that plainly from the terror written on his face. "Nay," he began gently as he started the truck and backed it out of Paul's driveway. Stupid Paul. Stupid house. Stupid driveway! Everything that had to do with Paul was painful and made me want to kick myself in the face. I wasn't aware that Jake had been speaking until he shook me.

"Nayeli Abigail! Are you listening to me?!"

Damn. I hated that Sam had to go and use my middle name whenever he pleased. Having the whole pack know what it was didn't really qualify on my list of 'Things I Want To Happen'. Sigh.

"No. But start over from the beginning, I'll listen this time, I promise," I said sincerely, feeling bad that Jake would have to deal with me for a whole night. It was hard enough having to deal with me when I was healthy, but when I was sick? That was a whole different story. Poor little werewolf.

"I said, Paul is really sorry. He was only trying to make you jealous," Jake said, his voice taking on that gruff 'I'm the Alpha's Second, so you have to listen to me too' voice. Little did he know, I was the Alpha's kid sister, so I didn't have to do shit.

"I know he's sorry, and I know he was only trying to make me jealous," I mumbled, my searing forehead placed against the window. I heard Jake make an exasperated noise from the next seat over.

"Then why are you being such a bitch?" he mumbled, in a voice I shouldn't have heard. But I did.

I slammed my fist against the dash, causing Jake to flinch. When I spoke, my voice was deathly quiet.

"Stop the car."

"Why?"

"Stop. The. Car."

I felt, rather than heard, the brakes come to a halt. Just like I felt Jake's questioning look as I unlocked the door and stepped out into the rain.

It hit my fully then, like a wrecking ball.

I loved Paul. I loved him. I didn't ever want to be without him, ever. Not in a million, trillion years. Life without Paul meant no life. He was the air I breathed and the blood that coursed through my veins. And, right now, as the rain pelted against my head and bare skin, blanketing me in it's freezing sea, it all hit me.

The world felt fuzzy. It could have been a side effect of the fever, or it could have been all this stress, but it felt like the air that I was trying to suck into my lungs was weighed down, like I was breathing water, or thick fog. My head swam with images both foreign and from my memories. The hurt on Paul's face when I'd rejected him at the cliffs; and, again, the pain I had caused him today. I shuddered and tried to clasp my arms around myself, but the joints felt stiff and clotted, like someone had stuffed cotton between my bones. It was like watching an old, silent movie. I saw Jake's lips moving, I saw the whites of his eyes as they widened. I saw him sprinting for me. I saw the headlights of the car, only feet away.

But I_felt _the silky, silver fur that hit me from the side. The hot breath on my neck as I sailed through the air, the shoulder of my t-shirt clamped between it's teeth. The dark abyss that was it's eyes. I saw everything that mattered. I saw Paul.

I let out a groan as I hit the ground, the enormous, silver werewolf panting above me like he'd run from a long way. The fur on his neck stuck up wildly as he watched the white car zoom through the spot where I had just been, sailing down the road in a flurry of splashing raindrops. Jake was at his side in an instant, apologizing profusely. "Hey, man, she just got out! It all happened so fast, I didn't let her out, I promise!"

Paul had been standing over me, his front legs splayed out across my shoulders, sniffing at my face and neck, making sure he hadn't bitten me when he'd grabbed my shirt to pull me out of the way. As Jake started to speak, Paul began to quiver, his teeth gnashing. Suddenly, as Jake continued on his ranting apologies, Paul threw his jaws open and snapped down on Jake's forearm. The bones crunched and snapped as Jake made a sort of whining noise, then crunched and snapped again as they healed perfectly, moments later.

"Was that necessary?" he snapped at Paul, who's ears had been laced back so far onto his head that they were beginning to disappear into his fur. Raising his hands, Jake backed away. "Come on, we're close to Sam and Emily's. We should take her…we can't take her there. Dammit. Okay, let's just go to my house, then." Jake reached down to pick me up, for I was still dazed and gazing at the world like I was tripping on acid. Paul's growl shook the earth beneath me. Absent-mindedly, I reached up and stroked against the side of his left ear. Immediately, he stopped shaking.

"Fine, bossy-boots," Jake succumbed, crossing his arms, "there's an extra pair of shorts in the glove compartment. Go phase, and we'll be in the car waiting." With that, he lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing (and, compared to him, I did) and sprang off at a lithe lope toward the gray truck.

I don't remember what happened next, only that I was mostly delirious. Suddenly Paul was gone, flashing through the brush like a silver streak of lightening. The forest stilled.

"Paul!" I shouted, struggling in Jake's iron-like grip. "Paul!"

Jake held tighter, shoving me gently against his chest. "He'll be right back. He'll be right back," he whispered over and over, as he slid into the driver's seat, me still in his lap.

"No!" I cried, thrashing my head back and forth. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure that it was the fever making me go crazy. (_You think_? Sharon scoffs).

And suddenly the passenger door opened, and that heavenly face appeared through it, bringing many droplets of water. I stopped my thrashing and reached out for Paul like a baby to it's mother, my eyes wide and lips quivering. "Nay," he whispered in a voice saturated with love, his eyes dark. I reached over and patted Jake on the head, successfully earning a chuckle from him, and then wrapped one of my arms around my stomach, the other resting gently on Paul's cheek. Paul situated me on his lap, so that his back was to the door and his arms fit securely around me, holding me to him. We fit like two pieces of a puzzle, like a key in it's rightful door. I sighed contentedly, before closing my eyes and beginning to drift. I didn't know that what I said next came out aloud.

"I love you," I whispered, before resting my head in the crook of Paul's neck, and falling asleep.

* * *

Something woke me up. Something ridiculously warm, breathing steadily beneath me. Something that was not a pillow.

"Paul?" I asked densely, reaching back blindly with an open hand. He met it with warm lips to my palm. I couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, you," he greeted me, all traces of the wariness I'd seen in him before gone. My smile grew.

"Hey," I said, and then sat straight up, my hands flying to my throat. "Hey! I don't sound like a man anymore!" I screeched, my normal voice back. Thoroughly excited, I made as how of reciting my ABC's in an annoying, sing song voice. I felt Paul's chest quiver beneath me as he laughed.

"You must've gotten better during the night," he stated happily, shifting slightly so he was sitting up against the side of the recliner he had stationed us in. I leaned against his shoulder, my head falling level with his. It felt right to be in his arms, and I realized that Sharon wasn't even protesting anymore. She sat quietly back, contemplating the same strangeness of the facts that I was.

I was laying in Paul's arms. I had come to terms that I loved him and that he loved me, and I felt…whole. Like my world had come full circle. This was the life I was meant to have. Here, in La Push, with Paul.

I snuggled closer to him, pressing my now cold cheek against his warm one. He jolted at the contact, before nestling himself farther down into the couch, holding me closer.

"I have to tell you a secret," I said finally, after a few moments of contented cuddling. Paul looked bemused, pulling his face up from my neck, where it had been pressed moments before.

"What secret?" Paul asked warily, loosening his arms slightly. I made an objective noise and pulled them back, curling my legs up so my cold toes were pressed to the insides of his knees. Once again, Paul jumped.

"I have to tell you…" I began ominously, looking down and biting my lip hesitantly. Now was not the time to have second thoughts. Was I sure about Paul? Yes. Did I love him? Yes. Did I want to tell him that?

"I love you." Our voices came in unison, our expressions equally as serious.

And then, my body exploded.

Paul hooked the back of my head with his hands and pulled me to his lips. Mine crashed against his, molding perfectly, like they'd finally found their rightful place. I sighed into the kiss, and Paul pulled me closer.

It started out slow and sweet. Delicate, like he was holding back. Growling in my chest, I pressed myself closer against him. Paul groaned. My lips opened of their own accord, and our tongues fought for dominance over each other, sometimes gently coaxing and other times stabbing wildly. The heat from his lips -or, perhaps it was my own, I couldn't be sure- was radiating through my body like an electrical current, making every hair stand on end. It felt as if I could light bulbs and ignite fires with just the tips of my fingers. After a while, Paul and I broke away at the same time for breath. His hand traveled gently to my face, following the plains of my cheekbones with the backs of his knuckles. My eyes closed.

"Now you're cold again, the fever is gone," he said, the pout audible in his voice. I reached up gently and stroked his jaw line with my fingers. "Not cold," I said simply, "not anymore."

* * *

"No! Not there, are you retarded?!"

I screeched for the millionth time that day. I shoved my fists into my pockets before I could plunge them into my eyes.

The day of the wedding had come sooner than I'd ever expected, and planning was all I'd been doing for about four days. And now, on the morning of the special occasion, Emily was on a hormonal rampage, Sam was out with the guys, and the movers were doing absolutely nothing right. All in all, I could have happily committed _seppuku _at that very moment.

"Hey, lady, if you insult us one more time…" came the thick voice of one of the movers, his thick arms tensing on the vase of flowers he had clutched there. Immediately I froze, my knuckles white against the clip board I was clutching.

"What? You'll what, huh? Nothing? YEAH. That's what I thought."

I spat, rounding on the man again, wrinkling my nose as a bead of sweat pooled down his face and ran onto the collar of his gray shirt. He huffed angrily.

"I dunno why we're even taking orders from a freakin' teenager here," he threw back, slapping the vase down onto the table in the kitchen, exactly where I told him not to put it.

"I SAID put it in there, on the piano, you ass," I growled, raising myself up to my full height and glaring straight into the man's eyes. His own flashed, his sweaty face reddening.

"Look, you-"

"'You' what?" Came a familiar, husky voice.

Paul stepped into the kitchen, shirtless and livid. His hands were quivering slightly, his dark eyes narrowed.

"Don't you ever raise your voice to her again. Get the rest of the shit out of the truck and leave it on the porch; my boys and I will take care of it." His voice was deadly, and, as he towered severely a foot above the now wilting mover, Paul was more than a formidable opponent. In fact, he could probably take both of the gross men on.

"Y-yes sir," stammered the worker, pointing quickly at his coworker and then bustling hastily out the door.

With a girlish squeal, I whipped around, dropped the clip board, and leaped into Paul's arms. He caught me automatically, lifting my feet farther off the floor and pressing his lips gently to mine. It had been almost two weeks since I finally admitted to Paul that I loved him, and we'd fallen into an amazing routine. He'd go on patrol, whatever time he was needed, and then he'd come home to me, and we'd cuddle. I was ever constantly getting shit from Embry and Jacob (him especially) about finally 'getting with' Paul. Jared took it upon himself to ask about our sex life whenever his little angel face showed up. I took it upon _my_self to shove a fire poker in his butt cheek.

Kim was mad at me for days. But Jared thought it was hilarious.

"Hey, baby," Paul said, his already deep voice getting huskier. I shivered. That voice meant something. A) he was horny and didn't plan to do anything about it, or, B) he was horny, and planned to make out with me until it physically hurt him. I was motioning more toward the latter.

I won.

Paul swung me down onto Sam and Emily's couch, pushing aside a few broken flower stems and torn ribbons. My head hit the pillows as Paul's lips crashed down onto mine again, more fervorently than the last time. We worked in unison for a while, our lips tangling together. Paul's hands were running seductively up and down my sides, occasionally slipping his fingers just inside the hemline of my torn sweatpants. I gasped as his fingers descended a bit farther, just above my panties. My hands clutched at his hair as Paul sucked against my collar bone, gently nibbling the skin between his teeth. I let out a small moan, just as the kitchen door swung open.

"Hey Paul, you here?"

_Seth_.

Damn him to the firey bowels of HELL.

With a grunt, I managed to push Paul off of me and straighten my tangled mess of hair. It was too early in the morning for making out like that anyway; we'd have to save it for later, for my bed, when Sam and Emily were off on their nice little honeymoon. I grinned wickedly at the idea.

Gangly-legged Seth strutted confidently into the living room, his long, wavy hair swept back into a pony-tail. "Hey guys, whatcha doin'?" He questioned innocently, his young-looking face turned completely up in a smile. I glared at him.

"Oh," Seth breathed, his eyebrows raising, "ew. Well, sorry to interrupt, but Sam is outside like, freaking out. Thought you guys might want a heads up."

Seth plopped himself down lazily into the recliner chair, his hands poised behind his head. After a few moments, he'd nodded off to sleep. Grudgingly, I stood up, and paced outside, Paul hot on my heels.

Sam sat with his head in his hands on the porch, his back shivering with the force of each breath. I recognized the symptoms as hyperventilating, and quickly rushed to his side.

"Sam," I said slowly, placing one of my hands on his back and rubbing soothingly. The shaking only intensified. "Sam," I tried again, leaning closer this time, "it's me, only me. C'mon, what's up?"

And then my brother, my big, strong, pack-leader brother, looked at me with tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes.

And my heart broke.

"Sammy," I breathed, leaning in and wrapping my arms as best I could around his wide shoulders. He let himself be pulled into the hug as I felt Paul's lips on my head and heard the door gently close.

Immediately, Sam flung his arms around my waist, pressing the side of his face into my shoulder. "What if she's not ready? What if her freaking out is a sign? Maybe…maybe she'll decide she doesn't love me anymore. I can't handle that, Nay, I just-"

I slapped my hand over his babbling mouth before he could finish the sentence.

"Samuel Levi Uley," I thundered, astounded, "you are SUCH an idiot! Do you REALLY think she'd have waited for you to propose to her for all this time if she didn't love you? If she wouldn't love you forever?"

Sam bit his lip and looked down. "But…but what if-"

"NO! There is no 'what if'! You two are madly in love, and it's going to stay that way. Hell, you'll probably still get busted for too much PDA when your little grandkids are running around," I smiled at the thought. "Really, Sam," I said, my voice gentler, "you guys will be together forever. Now stop moping and get upstairs and get ready! You're getting married in an hour and a half!"

And my brother did just that, quickly pressing a kiss to my cheek, before leaping up and nearly ripping the door off it's hinges.

* * *

"Em, you look amazing."

A half hour to go. A half hour until I gained the sister I'd always wanted. A half hour until Emily gained the family she'd been destined to be a part of.

And ten minutes until…_mom_.

Sam had graciously invited the vile woman to the wedding; the vile woman I hadn't spoken to or heard from for weeks. Don't get me wrong, I didn't care, and she could have expected me not to call -that was common sense- but not hearing from her was surprising.

Emily beamed up at me, her smile radiant. "Really?" she asked, her eyes disbelieving. I stood -well, not really stood, more wobbled to my feet- and wrapped my arms gingerly around her waist, hoping that I didn't mess anything up.

"Really. I've never seen a bride look any better than you, ever," I said sincerely, because she really did look beautiful.

Emily swung her finely curled hair around, as Leah reached down with a white bow to pile it atop her head. It had taken forever to get all those damned curls to stay -fucking Emily and her Native American hair- but they looked fantastic.

Emily gave one last, sweeping glance into the mirror, before the nice, peaceful afternoon was broken.

"Oh, EMILY! Just LOOK AT YOU! You look so AMAZING!"

Mother burst into the room, her dark hair swinging behind her, and hitting me smack dab in the face. Looking overwhelmed and slightly frightened, Emily accepted the arm flailing mass of appendage that my mother called a 'hug'.

"Oh, I'm just so excited that you're finally getting married! What with the baby and all," Mom hastened to ruin the day, flinging her hands about like an epileptic and surveying the room. Finally, her dark eyes landed on me, and she straightened up.

"Oh. Nayeli. There you are," she said, her voice wilting, like she'd been expecting me to skip out on the wedding.

"Yes, here I am. And there you are. Ten feet away from me. Let's keep it that way, shall we?" I was fuming, clutching the bedside table in Emily's room to keep from hitting her. Emily glanced at my mother, then over her head to me, and turned back to the mirror. I heard one faint giggle, then nothing, but she could do nothing to disguise the shaking of her shoulders.

"Is that any way to greet your mother?" The vile woman asked, her voice feigning hurt. Oh, so the old bitch wanted to play, did she?

"Oh, no! I'm sorry, mommy-dearest, how about this?" I sucked in a deep breath…then clenched my teeth and stopped myself.

This was Emily's day, and I'd be damned if I was going to ruin it by bitching at my mother.

"Sorry," I said with some difficulty, crossing my arms and clenching my hands into fists, "hi."

Several pairs of eyes traveled to me, clouded and confused. Everyone must have been expecting the comment of the century.

"Er," Mom faltered, clearly surprised, "hi. You look good."

"I know," I hissed, glaring evilly at her from behind the thin screen of my bangs in front of my eyes. Emily smiled winningly at me, before gathering her train and glancing up to check the clock. Too much time had passed with our little exchange, and my mother was still staring at me like I was Satan riding a tricycle.

Kim and Claire burst through the door, their bouquets of small flowers clutched in their fists. After a few moments of primping and prodding, I was rushed down the stairs to join the rest of the wedding party for the Wedding March.

I managed to maneuver my way down the stairs in the pink heels better than I thought I could. I only stumbled twice, and Claire was there to catch me when that happened.

The kitchen was full to bursting with warm, suit clad bodies and the occasional glimpse of pink from Leah, who was standing in the corner, arms crossed, sulking. I caught her eye and gave a sympathetic grimace; I hated dresses just as much as she did.

Kim found herself swept up into Jared's arms, and Claire into Quil's. Rachel had yet to arrive, and Seth was sitting nervously in one of the table chairs, biting his nails and running a hand through his wispy hair. At that moment, a pair of warm arms wrapped themselves around my waist, pulling me backward so I collided with an equally warm wall of muscle.

"You look absolutely beautiful," Paul murmured against my neck, where he planted seductive little kisses and nips that made it difficult for me to focus on turning around to get a better look at him.

Paul wore a black pinstripe suit, the exact same as the other boys, with a pink silk tie to match our dresses. He had a rose pinned on his lapel, the dark red contrasting perfectly with the dark russet of his skin. I could have drowned in his warm, chocolaty eyes.

"You don't look too bad yourself, babe," I whispered back, biting my lip and kissing his jaw line. Paul shivered, and his hands gripped tighter at my waist, pulling my lower half toward his. It took all my self control to press my hands to his shoulders and push myself away.

"Don't forget the wedding, pup," I said, tapping my newly manicured acrylic nails against his nose. Paul growled, deep in his chest, pressing his face against the crook of my neck. "We can be late," he said, slightly breathless. I almost agreed.

"That's enough, you two," Claire reprimanded, pulling the two of us apart and turning us around. Everyone was lined up, ready to go, pair-by-pair, onto the white carpet laid out across the garden. I could see Sam through the doorway, his hands clasped nervously in front of him, occasionally pulling at the hem of his new black suit. Our mother sat in the front row, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, her eyeliner making dark puddles just beneath her lashes. I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, Paul and Nayeli, you're between Jared and Kim, and Seth and Rachel. Where is Rachel?"

Claire was on the verge of losing her mind, her grip super-tight against the tops of my arm. I winced, pulling away slightly. Paul reached over and gently uncurled her fingers. I glanced at him thankfully. At the same moment, the back door burst open.

Rachel Black shook her heavily layered, crow-black hair from her equally dark eyes. Her flushed cheeks got redder as she eyed Claire the Wedding Nazi, and an apologetic smile lit up her pretty features.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, Claire, but my car was being stupid-"

Claire cut off the rest of Rachel's apology with a wave of her hand. "Enough, it doesn't matter. Just stand here. Seth, what are you looking at?"

At those words, the whole procession turned to stare at the youngest member, his dark eyes watching something closely outside, like he was seeing the sun for the first time, years after being blindfolded.

She was tall and lithe, like a dancer, with tight, red ringlets dancing about her face. She was motioning wildly to Rachel, brandishing a light pink shoe. "You forgot this!" the girl shouted, leaping up the few steps to hand the shoe to her friend. Rachel laughed. "How the shit could I forget that? I'm so dumb. Thanks, Heather."

"Heather," Seth breathed in a voice so quiet and loving. I couldn't help but smile. Finally, little Sethy-poo had imprinted.

Claire reached up and slapped him. "SETH! Focus here, bitch, we have a wedding to be in!" But Seth's eyes didn't focus. He was still staring at the red-headed girl named Heather, who was staring back at him with a glazed look in her eyes. Rachel waved a hand in front of the girl's face, and reached over to shake her slightly.

"Heather? You should probably go sit down now. We're about to start…" Rachel trailed off in uncertainty, her eyebrows knitted together. "Oh!" Heather breathed, blinking, and tearing her green eyes away from Seth's. "Yeah, right, gotcha. Good luck!" She leaned in and kissed Rachel gently on the forehead, before darting back out the door and taking her seat on the right, with Emily's side of the family.

Almost immediately, a tinkling peal of music came from the paid pianist somewhere farther back in the garden. Sam straightened up, yanking on the hem of his jacket again. Mom sobbed into a fresh handful of tissues.

Claire yanked on Quil's arm, pulling him forward. The two strode gracefully down the isle, Claire making three stride for each of Quil's. They were followed by Leah and Embry, who hid their distaste for their linked arms with cheery, almost abnormal fake smiles. Kim pulled Jared along with all the force of a bull elephant, making the overly-large werewolf look like a rag-doll in comparison. Kim really loved weddings.

As I watched the three couples part ways and take up their individual stances by the altar, Paul looked down at me to smile. "This'll be us, soon," he said reverently, his eyes far away as we began our march down the isle.

I didn't know whether to smile or turn and run.

I felt oddly naked as Paul's arm released mine to stand by Sam. I glanced at my brother then, his dark eyes terrified and ecstatic. As I walked toward my place next to Kim, Sam's lips parted as he mouthed the words, _Love you, sis._

I grinned and flicked him off, mouthing back, _Love you too, bro_.

The wedding march rang through the garden as I turned, clasping the small bunch of roses Claire had handed me. Rachel took her place next to me as she and Seth parted; she patted my arm in greeting and I smiled. Seth's eyes were still trained on Heather, and her's on his.

Emily was gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. Her dress came together perfectly, and her smile completed the ensemble. I could barely notice her scars, whether it was because I was used to them, or because they didn't really matter anymore.

I could tell, once Emily joined Sam at the altar, that it was hard for him not to just kiss her right there. I caught his eye in a warning and he clamped his hands down at his sides, then clasped them in front of him again. He was fidgeting.

"Many years the two young ones have spent together, loving, caring, protecting. We gather here today to finally welcome them into the eyes of the God's as a married couple. The tribe will celebrate tonight."

I wasn't familiar with traditional Quileute weddings. I couldn't pay attention to the words; I was too riveted on the way Emily kept her eyes on Sam's, them both having a silent conversation. I felt Paul's eyes burning into my forehead and I caught his gaze. It was burning, smoldering with meaning and sincerity. _I love you_, it seemed to shout in my head, _I love you, and I want this. My life has no meaning without you. _I could almost feel my eyes echoing the same glance.

Emily and Sam pressed their lips together, and shouts and applause rang out from the many people squished into the tiny garden.

The escorts came together with their maids again to follow the bride and groom to their limo, that would take them to the hotel room to change before returning back to First Beach for the reception.

This time, Paul took my hand, lacing my tiny fingers with his large ones.

As I watched my brother and new sister drive away, I pulled his arm closer and leaned against the love of my life.

"That'll be us, soon," I whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

**So, originally, this was supposed to be up yesterday. My bad. I was tired, so I refrained. BUT! It's up now! Don't throttle me, please :)**

**Yeah, this chapter was hard to write. I cried a few times. Oh yes. I was toying with a few ideas, and I liked this one. I really don't have anything else to say here...so, enjoy :D**

**Ps, I LOVE MAYDAY PARADE. Oh yes I do.**

**Love,**

**Angie Anonymous  
**

**

* * *

  
**

**NINE.**

The bonfire was ridiculously high. So high that you'd probably be able to see it from an airplane; but I was probably exaggerating about that.

The tribe was pulling out all the stops for the Chief's wedding. There were tables upon table of food; everything from chicken to brownies. The alcohol was plentiful as well, and that was the first table I swerved to as soon as the bridal party arrived at the reception. It was all covered by a huge blue tent. It looked like the circus had come to town, and I liked it.

"Don't drink too many of those little girly drinks, baby," Paul said, taking another swig of his vodka and cranberry Sierra Mist, "another seventy of those and you'll be stumbling."

I waved my strawberry Smirnoff in his face, downing the whole thing in a few gulps. "We'll see who'll be stumbling, light-weight," I said, turning to the bartender and saying, "Long Island Iced Tea, my good man."

Paul gaped at me, sputtering, as I turned to him. "You do know that's the equivalent of like, ten shots, right?" He asked, his dark faced pale. I nodded, taking the drink as it was handed to me. "Yep, and it goes down smooth, too." I turned to thank the bartender, who winked at me, a smile on his lips. I curled my lip and backed away, a disgusted look on my face, as Paul bared his teeth and snarled.

We made our way back to our table, saying our hello's to various people. I spied Seth and Heather chatting it up at one of the corner tables, their heads close together. Seth's eyes were absolutely dancing with glee and adoration. I prodded Paul with my elbow, and he grunted from his second drink. "What?" he asked, a little annoyed, as we took our seats at the table. I scooted my chair closer to him and leaned back into his chest, my head resting in the crook of his neck. "Are we that grossly adorable?" I asked, motioning to Seth and Heather with one of my pump-clad feet. Noticing the shoes, I kicked the uncomfortable things off and curled my legs up, keeping in mind that I still had on that stupid dress.

"You look amazing," Paul suddenly rumbled, his fingers dancing down my side. I shivered despite his heat. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. "Oh yeah?" I prodded, my fingers running the length of his left ear. "What's the big bad wolf gonna do, eat me up?" I joked, before Paul's lips descended upon mine roughly.

"EW! Stop making out at my wedding! That's gross."

Sam reached over and popped Paul on the top of the head with his fist. Paul reached around like he was going to slap him back, but his face suddenly softened and he said, "Congrats, man. Finally."

I sat up and flung myself at Sam, grabbing a hold of his left arm with both my arms and legs. I squeezed as tightly as I could, mashing my lips to his cheek. "Congratulations, idiot!"

Sam laughed and shook me off as Emily came up behind him, still in her wedding dress. She had abandoned the heals as she came pelting straight at me, wrapping me up in her arms and leaping up and down. I soon joined her. When we'd finished, she placed both her hands on my cheeks and kissed my forehead.

"I'm so glad you came to live with us," she whispered, planting more kisses on both my cheeks, "I couldn't be happier. I love you!" More hugging and squealing. I was touched. Really.

As the happy couple turned to greet their other guests, I relaxed back into Paul's chest. The breeze was chilly; it had to be in the lower sixties. Reasonably warm for La Push. I shimmied closer to Paul, pretty much in his lap. I could never be close enough. As if he felt the same way, Paul wrapped his left arm around my waist, hugging me tight. I twined my fingers with his. Then he shifted uncomfortably.

"What?" I asked, leaning up, assuming the problem was me. With a panicked look, Paul pulled me back down. "No, no! It's not you," he said, then reached up and undid his tie. "I'm just not used to wearing a shirt."

And I found that very, very funny.

* * *

The sunlight was beginning to dwindle when Paul finally stood up, his hand outstretched. I looked at him dazedly, the alcohol and weariness finally taking it's toll on me. "What are you doing?" I asked, confused.

"Come dance with me," he said, a grin pulling at his lips. My eyebrows mashed together into one line, but I took his hand anyway and allowed myself to be led to the dance floor. I grinned as the fast music changed to a slow song. Paul pulled me into his arms, placing both of his huge hands on my hips. I wrapped my arms -as best I could- around his neck and leaned into his chest, drinking in his scent.

_Katie don't cry, I know_

_You're trying your hardest, and the hardest part is letting go_

_Of the nights we shared_

_Ocala is calling, and you know it's haunting but compared_

_To your eyes nothing shines quite as bright,_

_And when we look to the skies, it's not mine, but I want it so_

I grinned into his chest, mouthing the words along. Paul chuckled down at me, and I glanced up at him.

"Do you know, like, every song? Jeez," he teased, tightening his grip as we swayed back and forth across the sand. I smirked. "Well, yeah, pretty much."

We continued like that, locked in each other's arms, revolving slowly, even as the music changed.

"C'mon, babe," Paul said gently, lifting my head. I didn't remember sitting down, or falling asleep. I glanced around groggily. The Pack were the only people remaining at the wedding, talking and laughing. Heather and Seth were still in the corner, except this time Heather was fast asleep, her head cradled against Seth's chest. He was staring down at her, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, whispering softly in her ear. Beside myself, I grinned.

"Where're we going?" I asked dazedly, allowing Paul to lift me from my chair and carry me to the car. After nestling me safely into the front seat, Paul climbed in on the other side, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the small lot. I glanced out the window.

"Where're we going?" I asked for the second time that night, lifting my hand and rubbing my forehead. I glance at my arm; Paul must have given me his suit jacket when I was sleeping. I grinned, hugging it closer to me.

"The bank really quick," Paul explained, reaching over with his free hand to wrap his fingers around mine, "I'm gonna get some money out. How do you feel about ice cream?" he asked, childish excitement lighting up his eyes. I smiled. "Whatever you want."

We drove in silence for a few more moments, the headlights of the other cars whizzing past to our left. It was when I saw the headlights coming straight for us that I knew something was wrong. They were approaching way too fast.

"Paul!" I screeched, immediately alert. I glanced at his face; Paul's eyes were wide with shock and fear. It all happened very quickly.

The pick-up truck headed straight for us at a speed that was definitely illegal.

Paul stomped on the breaks and jerked the wheel, swerving his car to the side, he leaned over my body, shielding me.

The wheels screeched.

I screamed.

It was dark when I woke. But that was only because my eyes were still closed.

I couldn't feel anything, and that alone was terrifying.

But then I felt the soreness of frozen limbs. I don't think pain has ever been so relieving.

I opened my eyes, groaning as the streetlights sent a shock of agony through my skull. I put a hand to my head, willing the pain to stop. How long had I been out? What happened?

Then I remembered; the car. The wheels. Paul, covering me, protecting me…

I sat up with a shriek, noticing immediately that I wasn't in the car anymore, and that there was wetness at the back of my head. Warm, sticky, red wetness. Blood.

I glanced around, still dazed. The red pick-up truck was in front of me, the driver stirring, his head against the wheel. A trickle of blood ran from a knick on his forehead. He opened his door with a loud creak, shaking his head back and forth rhythmically. "Oh god, miss," he stammered quietly, and I was surprised I could hear him, "I'm so sorry! I was just trying to get past all those drivers…I was changing the station for a moment…I didn't look-"

"Paul," I cut him off, sitting up on my knees, ignoring the pain in my head. I cast my eyes around, visually picking apart all the pieces of glass and scraps of metal, when I saw him; splayed out across the street, a cherry red puddle forming under his head and shoulders. The words echoed in my head before I could stammer them out.

_No…no!_

"NO! Paul!"

And suddenly I was on my feet, trampling over pieces of glass and metal; then I was kneeling beside him, my hands fluttering over his face helplessly, over his shallowly rising chest.

"Oh god, oh god," I whispered, tears streaming down my face, running over my lips as I spoke. "Wake up, wake up. This isn't supposed to happen. You heal fast, remember? Please."

I leaned over him, smoothing the dark, matted hair from his forehead. His eyes were open to slits, the whites visible, his pupils turned back into his head.

"Paul," I whispered again, my voice shaking. I cleared my throat, attempting to make it stronger. "Come on, baby, get up."

It was kind of like that scene in the Lion King; Simba, attempting to rouse his father, his attempts futile. I silent sob racked my diaphragm.

"Paul Andrew Foxe! If you don't wake up, I swear-" I choked off my threatening voice, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. I was vaguely aware of the other driver on the phone, speaking rapidly to the police. "An ambulance is on the way, miss," he called, snapping his cell phone shut and beginning to pace over to us, "is he okay?"

I ignored him, burying my face in Paul's chest and sobbing.

"Please, please don't die on me. Please. I love you. I can't live without you."

"Nayeli…."

His voice was breathless and strained. But it was there.

"Oh, god!" I exclaimed, grabbing his hand and holding it to my face. His fingers formed to my cheek, his thumb rubbing gently over the tracks of my tears. "Don't cry," he said faintly, his hands weak. They were shaking. His face was oddly pale.

"Just hold on, okay? We're going to get you to the hospital…they're going to fix you. It'll be okay." I kept up the constant stream of reassurances, more for myself than for him. His eyes were distant.

"Stay…safe. Promise," he whispered, his body convulsing oddly. I could feel the air rushing out from my lungs, the cold terror freezing my blood and making my tongue taste metallic.

"I'll be safe, as long as you're here. Just hold on. Please. They're on their way," I said desperately, my voice thick with tears.

Paul's eyes closed. I could hear the ambulance in the distance, the lights dancing along the trees.

"Love…you," Paul choked, blood bubbling from his lips. It ran down his chin, making a dark, cherry-red track down his neck. A vicious sob racked through my body.

"No! Don't you dare die! Don't you dare! I can't live without you, Paul! I love you!"

The ambulance doors closed roughly. The gurney wheels squeaked as two men rolled it toward us.

"Paul, please! I need you, you can't leave me! You can't!" I was clutching at his blood-stained shirt now, my fingers locking together. The paramedics came up behind me. One of them took my wrists in his hands, attempting to pry me away.

"Ma'am, you have to let go now. We're going to help him. Just let go."

Immediately, I was overtaken by gut-wrenching, nauseating panic.

"No! I can't let go! I can't, don't you get it? We're _supposed _to be together, _all the time_! I can't let him go, if I let him go…then he'll be gone!" I wasn't making any sense at all, and the rational part of me knew that. The other part -the more dominant one- didn't want Paul out of my sight for more than one second.

"Miss, please," the paramedic plead, his voice strained, "let go, and we'll help him."

"Hey," came the other man's gruff voice, "isn't that Sam Uley's sister?"

"Ah," a sound of recognition came from the first one's mouth, the one still attempting to pull me off of Paul, "so that must be one of his gang. Check him, Tyler, is he breathing?" The one called Tyler leaned down over Paul's mouth, his hand over his chest.

"Yeah, Mike, he's breathing," Tyler said, gripping my fingers and prying them away from Paul's shirt. "Let him go, now, honey," he said gently, "you can see him soon. He'll be okay. There, now. Mike, take her to the truck."

The one called Mike lifted me easily, carrying me bridal style toward the ambulance. He pulled out another gurney and strapped me onto it, but I was so frozen that I wouldn't have moved anyway.

"We called your brother, sweetie," Mike said, his blonde hair poking him in the eyes, "he's on his way."

I didn't care anymore. Paul wasn't with me. He was somewhere else, somewhere I couldn't go.

I let it get dark.

* * *

"Is she finally awake this time?"

"Don't rush her, just let her sleep. She's had a rough couple of days."

"No kidding. Hey! Did her hand just move?!"

"Seth, she's not in a coma, her hands have moved before."

I groaned, making to bring my hand up to my face and rub my eyes, only to feel a tug and a sting from somewhere near my elbow.

"What the fuck?" were the first words out of my mouth as my eyes shot open, glaring evilly down at the IV.

I glanced up.

Seth was staring at me, a huge, goofy looking smile on his face. Emily was right behind him, and Leah. Just then, Sam came thundering into the room, his face drawn.

"Oh, Nay! You're alive! I mean…awake!"

He abruptly flung his arms around me, nearly yanking me up completely from the bed. I did my best to hug him back with my available arm.

"Hey, Sam," I said, flustered, staring around the room, "what happened? Why am I here?"

Sam's face fell as Emily came up next to him, taking his hand. "You were in an accident, honey," she said gently. "You and Paul."

My eyes widened. "Paul?" I whispered, willing my voice to get louder. "How is he? Is he okay? What happened? Where is he?"

I could feel my breathing quicken, my chest constricting like I was drowning. Emily bit her lip, looking away.

_No! No no no_.

"Sam? Seth?" I asked, my eyes whipping to them, my breathing becoming more erratic. The heart monitor, which had been beeping steadily, sped up to an unhealthy rate. Sam reached over, attempting to restrain me, but I threw him off.

"Where is he?! I want to see him!" I was screaming now, and Sam's face and gone pale. "Nay, calm down," he ordered gently, his hands stroking my face, searing my skin. I whipped my head back and forth, my eyes tightly closed. "No!" I cried, my fingers wrapping around the IV and yanking it out of my arm so hard that droplets of blood shot out, along with some clear fluid. "I want to see him. He's here. He's alive. He's got to be. Where is he? SAM!"

Somewhere during my rant, my brother had fled from the room, calling for the nurses. Seth was staring at me, his eyes wide with understanding, and he leaned over the bed. "He's alive, Nay," he said quietly, in the smallest voice I'd ever heard him use, "he cut his head pretty bad. They sewed him back up, but he's asleep. He's got some internal bleeding, and they're taking him into surgery today."

And then I froze, cold as ice, letting the words sink in. Digesting them.

Internal bleeding was bad, wasn't it? But they could fix it, right? It was common. No, of course not common…but it wasn't that bad….

I swung my legs over the bed, my bare feet colliding with the cold floor. I didn't even wince. I didn't have time for that.

In a moment, I was pelting down the hallway faster than a speeding bullet; I was almost sure I rivaled the speed of a vampire.

Seth and Sam were tearing after me. I didn't care. I could outrun them, if I really, really had to.

And that's when I saw him; stretched out on the bed, his eyes closed peacefully, his face covered in tiny bandages; his head shaved, stitches holding together two sides of a gash that covered almost half of his skull.

Paul. My Paul.

I was at his side faster than I could even register what I was doing.

"Baby," I crooned, the tears splashing down my face again, leaving tiny water-marks on his sickly green hospital blanket. "I'm here now."

Paul's eyes fluttered minutely, and his lips opened, but no sound came out. I held back a sob as I smoothed my hand gently across his forehead, ironing away the worry lines that had appeared there. "I'm here now," I whispered again, "I'll always be here. With you; where you are. Don't go where I can't follow you, baby, please."

His head turned to me, his eyes opening to tiny slits. The coffee brown color was so comforting.

"Stay…with me," Paul whispered, his voice like a passing breeze.

I nodded, clutching his hand to my chest, kissing his fingers, his wrist. "Where else would I go?" I whispered, smoothing my fingers down his arm soothingly. Paul nodded to himself then, his eyes closing, his breathing returning to the slow, steady pace of sleep. I drifted along with him, whispering steady reassurances; yes, I would be there, I would stay. Forever. As long as he needed me. Perhaps longer.

Because a life without Paul wasn't much of a life at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**first of all, just let me say that I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG. i know, it's been like..a whole year. i am really really sorry. thank you for all the people who stuck with it and read even though i wasn't updating and haven't since november. school literally kicked my ass this year; ap history sucks. don't ever take it. anyway, monday and tuesday are our last days! i'm officially a senior as of tuesday afternoon! i'm so excited i think i might pee myself...anyways. if you messaged me, i'll be sure to reply in a little while. i'd do it now, but i just want to upload this and get to sleep. i hope you guys enjoy it and i'm sorry that it's shorter than all the rest; forgive me. my updates will come within succession from now on, i promise! pinky swear!**

**love,**

**angie anonymous**

**EDIT: oh crap. i know it says seth in this chapter. i meant to say brady. balls. sorry for the confusion, but when i started out saying seth (i don't know why, i've just had him on the brain) i just kept saying it. way sorry guys. it's all fixed now :)  
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**TEN.**

I sat there for a long time, just murmuring to him, half dazed. People kept coming in and out of the room; nurses, doctors, pack members. But Paul stayed asleep. I was assaulted by a slew of voices; deep and soprano, but none of them were Paul's.

One of the nurses gave me a cushiony chair, so I could be more comfortable and take the stress off my knees. I thanked her quietly, automatically. My eyes stared blankly into Paul's face, sometimes flickering to his chest, just to make sure that he was still breathing.

When two o'clock rolled around, two men dressed in scrubs entered the room, wheeling a gurney. I watched them warily, gripping Paul's hand tighter. One of the men reached out to me just as warily, his eyes tight around the edges.

"He's going into surgery now, miss," he said gently, reaching farther. I shrunk against Paul. "To fix him," he continued, and I leaned farther back. "Fix him?" I wondered aloud. But what was wrong with him? He was perfect.

The other man rolled his eyes. "Just pick her up and move her," he grumbled, his lips pouting unconsciously. A snarl rippled from the doorway.

"Touch her and die."

Sam sauntered into the room, his arms folded across his chest. When he looked at me his eyes softened, and he reached out slowly. I allowed him to caress my messy hair and gently pull me away.

"They're going to fix Paul's insides, honey," he said, in a tone he reserved only for me or Emily, "so he can go home soon."

Those words almost sent me sprinting to the operating room myself. Home. Paul, home, with me.

That sounded like heaven.

Sam kept his large hands around the tops of my arms as they transferred Paul from one bed to the next, and began to wheel him out of the room. I tensed visibly, my fists clenching, but I stayed put. I knew that it was best for Paul to get treated.

The two men dressed in scrubs carefully lifted Paul and laid him gently on the gurney. In the same moment, they wheeled him away, out of the room. When he was out of sight, the panic began to set in again.

"It's okay, Nay," Sam crooned, pulling me to his chest and caressing my hair with the palm of his hand, as my breathing became labored. "Just calm down. He'll be fine. He'll be fine." He repeated himself over and over for what seemed like hours, until finally, finally, I fell asleep.

* * *

"Nay? Nay, wake up."

I was unwilling. For a moment, in a dream, I thought I was dead, knocking on heaven's door. Praying at the feet of God that he would still accept me, even though I'm a bitch and a horrible person, and I've gotten into my fair share of fights. But it wasn't God's voice pushing me to wake. It was a different kind of voice, akin to God. My own personal savior.

My eyes flew open so fast they almost retreated into the back of my head. My vision was blurry, but I couldn't mistake his face for anyone else's.

"Paul! Oh, Paul!"

He was standing. His head was no longer stitched, and a nasty scar ran down where the binds had been. His hair was a little longer now, none growing where the scar was. He'd have to have his head shaved forever now. Great.

But it didn't matter, as long as we was alive and standing before me.

Wait, _standing_?

"Paul, why are you standing? Why aren't you in surgery? Am I dead?" Questions flooded from my mouth as I reached up and began to feel my face, pinching the cheeks, just to make sure I was all there and not transparent. Paul was laughing, his teeth glowing white against his slightly paler skin.

"You're alive, I'm alive. I got out of surgery three days ago." I felt my face freeze.

"Three…days? But…wait, what?" My head was clouded with confusion. I reached up to my temples, massaging them gently. What the fuck?

"You were out for three whole days. The doctors said that you had an anxiety attack so severe that the only way your body could deal with it was completely shutting down. By the way, you scared the hell out of me." Paul reached up with his fingertips and tapped my cheek. "Don't ever do that again."

He sounded stern. But he was smiling. Here. In front of me, smiling.

I flung myself at him, my arms winding around his neck, but I was sure not to touch his abdomen or chest. I didn't know where they'd cut him. It was probably sore. He caught me with both arms, crushing me to his chest, kissing my head and face all over. After a few long moments, he set my knees back on the bed. My arms still firmly clasped around his neck, Paul ran his palms over my face, his dark eyes staring into my light ones. "I'm so glad you're okay," he said, his voice low and husky, "if you had been hurt, I don't know what I would have done."

"I'm fine," I whispered, closing my eyes and leaning into him, "I'm okay. It's not your fault. I just want to go home."

Paul pulled me close, kissing my forehead. "Then let's go home. Sam and the rest of the Pack are outside waiting." Paul motioned with his chin to the cushy chair, still sitting by the bed. "Emily brought you over some clothes to change in to."

I reached for the simple jeans and t-shirt. Unfolding the pants, I pulled them quickly up, over my legs and buttoned them with one hand. I unfolded the t-shirt and stopped. It was huge, almost as tall as I was.

"Is this your shirt?" I asked, staring at it, bewildered. He nodded, smiling. "I figured it would be more comfortable for you. You know, not as tight. You got some pretty awesome looking bruises." He looked slightly angry as he said it. Ashamed, even. I reached up on my toes to caress his face with my finger tips.

"I love it," I murmured, as I slipped the shirt over my head. It was navy blue and huge; the sleeves hung almost to my wrists and the hem went well past my knees. I must have looked completely ridiculous. Not caring if he saw, I lifted up the shoulder of the shirt and took a big whiff; it smelled exactly like him. Grinning to myself, I took Paul's outstretched hand, weaving my fingers in with his. "Lets go home."

* * *

When you're truly happy, time has no essence. It passes and passes, and all you're focused on is the good things in life. That's how it went for the next three months in La Push; I stayed at Paul's house most days, even on school nights. I slept at Sam and Emily's on the nights he was on patrol, because I didn't like being alone places. We were a happy couple. Emily was getting bigger, her stomach beginning to balloon out from her originally flat abdomen. She was constantly spotted rubbing a hand across her stomach, her eyes on the horizon; waiting for Sam to return from patrol. Their marriage was complete bliss. Neither of them could be happier, and it only made me sick (in a good way) to be around them. The atmosphere was so blissful, so happy, that we all gravitated to the house in the evenings anyway, before the boys went out to patrol.

That is, until that fateful day.

I just so happened to be sitting in the kitchen with Emily, drinking tea and discussing her upcoming sonogram. She wanted the baby's sex to be a surprise, while Sam wanted to know if it was a boy or girl. We were in the midst of that calm little conversation, when the kitchen door burst open with a gust of chilly, fall wind. I whipped around in the kitchen chair as Emily jumped, almost spilling her cup of hot tea.

The doorway was filled with the outline of a dark, gangly creature, his features completely black due to the bright light of the setting sun behind him.

"Brady?" I asked, noticing his wavy hair billowing in the slight breeze. He lurched into the kitchen, then, his shoulders slumped and his hands limp. Immediately I leaped up from my chair, my cup abandoned. I rested one hand against Brady's shoulder and helped him into my waiting chair, my brows knitted together. "What's going on? Brady, tell us what's happening," Emily demanded, her hand spread like an iron vice across her belly. I leaned into her, attempting to assure her that everything would be okay. "Is the Pack alright?" she relentlessly questioned, ignoring me. Seth shook his head. "Its nothing to do with the Pack," he said, in a voice close to breaking. My blood froze.

"Then what is it, Brady-poo?" I asked gently, whipping out the pet name I made for him so long ago. With that, Brady leaned into my side and buried his face in my ribs.

"I imprinted, and she hates me!" Brady wailed, wrapping his arms around my waist and sobbing into my side. The hot wetness of his tears drenched my shirt. With an awkward surge of maternal love, I pulled myself into Brady's lap and began to stroke his hair. Brady transferred his face from my shirt to the crook of my neck. I could feel the salty tears running down my bare skin. Poor Brady-poo.

I don't know how long we sat there like that; Brady sobbing into my neck and me stroking his hair, quiet, but reassuring. I let him get it all out before I started asking questions.

Brady finally gave one last sniffle, wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, and turned to give me a half-hearted, watery smile. "Thanks, Nay," he said gratefully, squeezing around my waist for a moment. I hugged him back around his neck, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Now, what happened?" I asked, dying to know the details. I'd never ever in a million years thought that Brady would ever imprint. Atleast, not yet. As one of the youngest in the pack, we'd always expected him to be one of the last to imprint.

Brady sniffled again, as if the question brought him bad memories, and began his story.

"I saw her on the beach. You should see her, Nay, she's amazing. Like the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life. I walked up to her and asked her name," he paused, maybe for dramatic effect, but probably to keep from crying again, "and she said 'Elena, what's yours?'."

Brady broke off for a moment, reaching up with his hand to palm himself in the face. "You want to know what I said, Nay? I just blurted out 'I love you'. Right to her face, seconds after learning her name!" He broke down into another fit of feverish sobs again, this batch stronger than the last. I took up stroking his hair again, rolling my eyes a little bit this time. Seriously, the boy needs to be on meds.

"I'm so stupid!" he finally blurted as he wrapped up his third batch of tears in ten minutes. I sighed, rolling my eyes again, for the trillionth time.

"You're not stupid, Brady," I said, sighing, "you were just overwhelmed. I mean, you imprinted. You guys have to be together. She'll understand, just give her time, and the next time you see her just tell her you were high or something and that your name is Brady."

He looked at me as if I had offered him orange juice out of a dirty heroin needle.

"Are you crazy?! Then she'll think I'm some kind of stoner and she won't want to talk to me!" Brady cried, flinging his arm up and almost shoving me off his lap. With a very lady-like (sarcasm) screech I flailed my arms, managing to catch a hold of his neck before I hit the floor. Rolling my eyes (again) I shook my head as Brady stood, gently placed me on the ground, and pulled his shirt off.

"I have to go on patrol now. Paul should be here in a couple of minutes. Oh," he turned before he walked out the door, undoing the clasp on the ratty, leather belt that held up his too-big jean shorts, "and don't tell anyone about my little…'episode', alright?" Mussing up my hair, Brady then tore out of the house. The faint ripping sound, and he was a wolf.

I watched the horizon for a few more minutes, enjoying the purples and the pinks that dotted the early summer sky. Night was closing in fast on another perfect day, in my perfect life.

And just as I was reflecting on all these perfect things, my perfectly perfect boyfriend waltzed out of the greenery, pulling a pair of dark jeans over his hips. I grinned and ran to meet him, leaping straight off the porch stairs and into his arms. Pressing his lips to the top of my head, Paul murmured a husky hello.

"Have a nice night, love?" he asked as he flung me onto his back, carrying me piggy-back style back into the kitchen. I grinned, burying my face in the back of his neck and placing tiny kisses there.

"My night? It was okay. How was patrol?"

Paul set me down on the ground and opened his mouth to answer. As he did, a piercing cry rang out through the darkening forest Now, as a 'pack-girl', I was used to the occasional howl from the woods, usually a boredom thing. This howl was different; more urgent, sharper. Paul's mouth snapped shut and his jaw tensed, and he whipped around to face me as Emily burst into the kitchen, both of her arms wrapped around her slightly swollen belly.

"Was that Jared?" she asked, and I wondered for a moment at her uncanny ability to recognize each pack member by his or her howl.

Paul nodded, his eyes burning as they caught mine. His nose wrinkled, like he smelled something too sickly-sweet. I knew that look.

"No," I whispered, "not again." My hand immediately traveled to the long, rough scar that trailed along my arm. The scar from my first experience with a vampire. My blood froze, and I instinctively stepped back, placing myself in front of Emily, should the danger burst through the front door.

Paul leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. "I love you, stay here," he murmured, before launching himself out the door and into the woods. Another howl broke loose, this one even more urgent than the first. But this time, the call for reinforcements was cut off with a bloodcurdling screech.


	11. Chapter 11

**um...heeeeyyy guysssss :D**

***hides* DON'T BEAT ME! you have no idea how many threats i have gotten in the past couple months from you people! INSATIABLE! **

**it's okay. i'm sorry this took so long. summer jobs aren't cool and senior year is killing me. but i finally got some time to finish this chapter...my saddest chapter yet. let me know what you think! **

**Ps. i'm sorry. i had to. you know i did.**

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I could feel every inch of me go on edge, every hair on the back of my neck stand up in terror. The screech was not that of a wolf's, but that of something that I was too terrified to even comprehend at the moment.

Another howl pierced the air, and Emily let out a choked sob.

"Sam!" she cried, launching herself around me and at the door. "Emily, no!" I screamed, a few seconds too late. She was already out the door and sprinting down the steps. I flew after her.

It must have begun to rain in the few moments that Paul had left. The downpour soaked me to the core as soon as I stepped off the sheltered porch. Emily was shaking, standing at the line of trees, her dark eyes searching for something she couldn't see.

"Sam," she chanted over and over again, her arms like impenetrable chains around her belly. I pelted up to her, slightly disgruntled and soaked. "Come inside," I begged her, the pleading evident in my voice, "Sam would kill me if anything happened to you or the baby while I was on watch. Come inside."

Finally, after a few moments of incessant begging, Emily relented, allowing me to lead her inside. I sat her down at the kitchen table, hurrying to fix her a cup of warm tea. We couldn't afford her getting even the slightest bit sick; not now.

I waited a moment as she sipped the hot drink, her eyes slightly calmer. There were no howls, no screeches. Only the sound of the rain hitting the roof; tiny thuds that were much louder than they should have been.

Once I was sure that Emily was completely calm, all signs of hysteria gone, I took the mug from her and rinsed it in the sink, spilling pink dish soap everywhere as I did so. I looked at the lathered countertop in confusion, before I realized my hands were shaking. I quickly wiped the counter down with a moist rag, hoping she wouldn't notice. But Emily was past paying attention to me now. She was staring at the door.

I nearly fell over when another, louder, pained howl echoed through the once silent night. And another, and another. Metallic screeching filled the air, and Emily leaped up. It was so close to the house.

"Don't lock the doors!" Emily shouted at me as I rushed to shove the screen door closed as hard as my body would allow. I looked at her like she was crazy, but then remembered that a vampire wouldn't be deterred by a small locked door. Fear etched plainly on my face, I slowly retreated from the door, placing myself in front of Emily again. I don't know how long we stood like that; me in front of her, one arm extended backward as a warning, laying against her forearm. Her one free arm, the arm that wasn't constricted around her stomach, was clutching at the back of my shirt, ready to yank me out of the way if necessary. As it turns out, it was. Several faint, ripping sounds later, thundering footsteps were heard, only a small distance from the house.

"No!" someone was shouting, "no, no, no! Why?!" Sobs. Heavy, breathless sobs.

Sam lead the way in, his tears leaving long, clean tracks in the mud that streaked his face. His face was stricken and dazed, his eyes glazed with disbelief and fury, and agony. My throat closed.

"No," Jared was crying, his hands clasping at the sides of his head as he fell to his knees on the kitchen floor, his sobs raking through his body in tremors. Droplets of rainwater and a mixture of tears and sweat pooled on the floor, making it slippery and difficult to walk on. The rest of the Pack had piled in now, each howling their own grief to the sky. I was too confused to ask what was going on, but I already knew. I counted in my head the number of wolves that should have been in the kitchen. One was missing.

"No," Emily and I whispered at the same moment, the horror finally sinking in.

"Brady," Collin moaned into the linoleum floor, where his face was pressed, "why? Why?"

And, with that, the complete terror and pain set in.

Brady. Brady was gone.

It hit me then in full realization. I had always thought the Pack as impenetrable, unconquerable, a force that could not be reckoned with. Why Brady? He was so young. He had so much to live for. So much love to give.

My heart felt like it had been split in two. The ragged pieces flapped against my chest, causing sharp pains to radiate through my whole body. My eyes were wide, I could feel them, but I had no idea what expression my face carried.

Emily was on her knees in front of Sam and the rest of the boys, cradling Sam's head in one of her arms, and Collin's in the other. I stared, horrified for a moment, before I flung myself to the ground, grasping one of Collin's huge hands in both of my own.

"Shh," I crooned to him, my face pressed against his neck, my tears mingling with his, "shh, Collin."

"Brady…" he whined, quieter now, "gone….No." He wailed into Emily's arm, his whole body shaking.

"I'll…call his mother," someone quietly whispered. Sam.

I looked up at my brother, his face still tear-stained. His eyes were far away, now, staring outside, into the rain. A shape was outlined in the eerie moonlight on the porch, a shape covered in a white sheet, usually used to cover the lawn furniture outside during the summer when it wasn't being used. A tremor racked my body. It was too real, all of a sudden. I had to find Paul.

He was at the back of the throng, patting Jacob firmly on the shoulder. His face was twisted in a mask of grief, tears still spilling from his eyes. Each of the boys was comforting each other, now silent, all except for Collin, who was still groaning quietly on the floor of the kitchen. I made my way through the sea of bodies, my hands searching until they found what they were looking for.

"Paul," I whispered as he turned to look at me, his face twisted, "oh, honey." I took his face in my hands and kissed his lips gently, pulling him down to sit on the kitchen floor. I draped myself over him and Collin, the rest of the Pack crowding around the young teenager.

"Shh, Collin," they all whispered at different intervals. Collin had his fists pressed into his eye sockets, his sobs quieter now. The grief hung over the assembled people like a dark cloud. I continued rubbing his back soothingly, as the tears spilled from my eyes. Why Brady?

All went quiet as the ringing on the other end of the phone line began. Paul sucked in a sharp breath, tightening his hand on Collin's shoulder and around my waist.

"Mrs. Boure?" Sam said quietly, his voice cracking. A muffled reply.

"Its Sam Uley," he said, his eyes fell to Emily and he reached out his hand. She took it then, pulling herself up to stroke his cheek. Another muffled reply; wary this time.

"Yes," Sam said, his voice sad, "it's about Brady. No, Mrs. Boure. I'm afraid he didn't make it back tonight." There was a pause on the other side of the line, and Collin began to weep again. His loss was one of the greatest.

When the news finally sunk in, Mrs. Boure's sorrow over the loss of her only son was almost palpable. Her wails cut through our ear drums as if she was here in the kitchen with us. She plead with Sam to be kidding, lying to her somehow. Sam refused that, his eyes swimming with sadness. He invited her over to the house, which she graciously accepted. Sam hung up the phone and leaned his forehead against the wall, his eyes clamped shut and his hands balled into fists. Emily rushed about, murmuring about getting coffee started, until she almost doubled over, a shocked look on her face.

I was at her side in an instant, my hands roaming her face, scanning the floor for blood or amniotic fluid. "What's wrong," I asked hastily, "what's wrong?"

Emily glanced up at me with a pained look on her face. Another tremor racked her body. Her eyes grew wide as saucers. Blood ran down her leg.

"NO!" I cried as she clutched to me for support, her knees going weak and shaking. Sam was at my side in an instant, swinging her up bridal-style and running from the house. "Follow us in the truck!" he shouted to Paul. "The rest of you, stay here. Wait for Mrs. Boure."

The Jeep started with a loud _vroom_, and he was gone.

Paul was staring at the door, as was the rest of the Pack. Collin's eyes, red and weepy, stared as well.

In a moment, I was in action. I grabbed the keys to the truck, hanging from the hook by the door, my coat, and Paul's hand. I waved a tear-filled goodbye to the Pack, as we sprinted faster than the wind out the door. I leaped straight from the threshold to the bottom of the stairs in one bound, my wet eyes firmly staring at the sky. I heard the sheet rustle in the breeze as I flew through the air, and I quickly blocked it from my mind.

Silently, Paul took the keys from my hand and started the truck. I climbed in the old, beat up Tahoe and buckled my seatbelt, a habit I'd developed since the accident.

It seemed like forever until we reached the hospital. The big, red building loomed over me in the distance like the devil, the big, bay windows at the front seeming to blink at me like two overbearing eyes.

Paul took my hand as we rushed into the hospital, the attendant at the front of the desk cracking her gum noisily.

"Where is Emily Uley?" he asked quickly, breathless. The attendant appraised him with dark chocolate eyes, her blonde hair thrown up in a messy bun at the top of her head.

"Are you immediate family?" she asked in a lazy voice, her gum cracking again. I almost reached over to yank it from her mouth, the Paul's warm arm snaked around my waste, restraining me. "I'm a close friend," Paul replied, his voice hard. The attendant only stared at him.

"I can't let you see her unless you're a close family member, sir," she said, her tone bored. My anger boiled.

"I'm her fucking sister!" I screamed, my voice rising a few octaves on the last word, "Now let me see her!"

The attendant looked at me, alarmed, but wrote down the room number on a post-it note. "The maternity ward is on the left," she stuttered, her eyes wide.

Without thanking her, I grabbed the paper with shaking fingers and took off at a run down the hallway. A few sharp lefts and terrified nurses later, we stopped in front of room 238. A thick, wooden door barred our way. Quietly, we opened it.

Sam sat in an uncomfortable looking hospital chair, his hands clasped around one of a sleeping Emily's. Her usually dark skinned face was pale and moist with sweat and tears. Her hair, pulled into a loose pony tail at the base of her neck, stuck to her face where Sam hadn't wiped it away yet. Her face was peaceful, but her brows furrowed, like she was worried.

"How is she?" I asked, releasing Paul's hand and tip-toeing quietly to Sam's side. His equally pale face stared up at me, his brown eyes wet, but no tears came. He looked like he didn't have the ability to cry anymore.

"The baby…" he began, and choked. Fear washed through my veins like ice water.

"No," I mouthed, my shaking hands traveling to my throat in horror.

"No, no," Sam whispered, his tone placating, "he's alright. Small, premature, but fine." And then he was glowing.

A nephew. My nephew. Sam's son. Joy replaced the fear.

"Oh, Sam," I whispered, and hugged him. He held me tight for a moment, his breathing slightly uneven.

"I thought…I thought I was going to lose them both," he whispered, "they got him out just in time. He was so tiny." Sam was blissful, but then his features turned soft and sad.

"We named him Brady," he said quietly. A tear escaped his eye, as well as mine.

"He wouldn't have had it any other way," Paul said from behind us, wrapping his arms around the both of us as we cried.


	12. Chapter 12

**update just for you beautiful readers :)**

**i liked doing this chapter, only because i got to do some different perspectives. it's short, and i'm sorry for that, but its merely a filler until the REAL action gets going! let me know what you think!**

**love, **

**angie anonymous**

* * *

TWELVE

_BRADY_

I felt my body explode as I transformed. Fur sprouted along my neck and back like fire; in my wolf form, I ran.

My paws thudded against the ground as I sped through the black forest, the moon my only guide. It shone a straight path through the trees, as if beckoning me to follow. I headed through the bramble quickly, burrs tangling themselves in my sandy fur. When I started to hear the sounds of fighting, my stride spread wider and I sped up.

A sickly sweet smell entered my nostrils, and I sneezed. I heard the jaws of my brother's snapping, their growls and roars of rage echoing through the silent, dark trees like we were in our own little bubble. As I crashed through the bramble, and the battle finally came into view, my eyes immediately locked on the lithe, white skinned creature that was my prey.

But when the blood-sucker turned around, my heart stopped and soared in the same beat.

Elena whipped around, her crazed, crimson eyes staring into mine, but seeing nothing. I was sure, absolutely sure, that when I met her she was human. Her scent had been so pure and sweet, her eyes so deep and brown, like melted cinnamon. Her hair, that had been pulled up in a loose bun, now hung tangled and wild around her bloodsoaked face. Disbelief set in; this could not possibly be real. Elena was not a monster, she was the love of my life, my imprint, the reason I was on this earth.

Jared leapt straight at her, his jaws gaping wide, ready to close on her exposed throat.

At that same moment, I was soaring through the air, knocking Jared out of the way of my beloved, snarling my rage into his face.

At that same moment, Elena's fingers closed around my neck. A sharp crack. And nothing…nothing at all.

* * *

SAM

Death is instantaneous. I've never experienced it, so I wouldn't know how it felt. One minute, someone is there, talking to you, laughing with you, sharing your joy. And the next moment, they're under a sheet on your porch, dark eyes staring into nothing but what only they can see. Brady was no longer in his body; I hoped he was in heaven, watching us now.

I wish it hadn't been him. I wish it had been someone else. As selfish as that seems, I wish it had been some stranger in the obituaries; someone else's friend, someone else's brother…

I knew the moment he was gone. I could feel the threads of his thoughts that tied him to me slip away, slowly snapping like the seam of an old shirt. I reached out with my own thoughts, trying to tie them back to me, to pull Brady away from the brink of death. I was too late, and by the time I fully realized what happened, he was gone, the crack of his neck echoing in my mind and the dark forest like a thunderclap.

Each member of the Pack stopped, so instantaneous that their hair on the back of their neck's barely quivering. Seeing her route clear, the vampire turned and ran with the speed of light, the scent of her fear lingering in the air even after she was long gone.

"Brady?" Collin asked in his mind, his panic filtering into all of us. Collin's dark, lanky form stalked toward Brady cautiously, his ears forward, whiskers quivering.

"Get up," he commanded his best friend, nudging his form with his snout. Brady's head rolled, his neck pointed at an awkward angle. Slowly, the fur began to recede from his paws, transforming back into hands. Then up his arms and to his chest, revealing no marks, no blood. When his face appeared, it was stark white, his once bright eyes staring into the trees, to the direction the leech went.

"Brady, no!" Jared wailed, and began to howl. We followed him, transforming silently as our howls turned into sobs.

* * *

"Would you like to see him?" Sam asked, his voice low and quiet. I watched him silently go to the door, tip toeing as to not wake up an exhausted Emily, who slept soundly now in the bed. Paul and I followed quietly, closing the heavy, wooden door behind us.

It was a slow, silent walk down the pink painted hallways, until we reached the big, bullet proof glass window. Several babies were asleep in their individual cribs, a few in blue blankets, some in pink. One tiny baby stuck out, though, because his tiny hands were feeling around the clear plastic of his crib, as if he were looking for a way out.

"That's him," Sam said, pointing him out with a huge finger.

As I gazed at the tiny thing, his eyes traveled toward mine. The deep brown was so familiar, it was almost jolting. Judging by Paul's sudden stillness, I wasn't the only one who noticed it.

"You can hold him, if you want," Same whispered, his voice gentle and loving, his hands and nose pressed up against the glass. I nodded slowly, enraptured by the baby's tiny hands.

As the three of us entered the baby room, a short, dark haired nurse smiled at us. "Which one is yours?" she asked, though her eyes followed ours onto the baby's face. The only baby that mattered.

The nurse picked him up slowly, cradling his head in her arm. She carefully handed him over to me, as I made an awkward cradle with my arms to accommodate him.

When I looked into the baby's face, my life came together.

Now, being justified by a face that I had never seen before, the baby had a name.

"Brady," I whispered, pressing my lips to his forehead gently. He was warm and heavy in my arms, finally there, really there, after eight months of waiting. His dark eyes opened and they stared up at me with a small sense of recognition hidden behind the confused mentality of a newborn, so similar, eyes I had seen before.

"Yes," I whispered, a tear escaping my eye, "this is Brady."


End file.
